


Photograph

by lincoln4460



Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch fanfic, British Actor RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 71
Words: 128,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincoln4460/pseuds/lincoln4460
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loving can hurt sometimes but it is often the only thing that makes us feel alive. For Ben and Cara the challenge is to see if they can make it together without tearing each other apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Was Unexpected

We were nearing the end of our second set when I noticed him. I purposely don't wear my glasses when I'm on stage so that the audience are enough out of focus for me not to feel weird about making occasional eye contact. Let's face it, I can't just stare at the ceiling all night while I'm singing, can I? And even though he was slightly blurry and wearing a flat cap and spectacles as a disguise, there was no mistaking those cheekbones and the dark curls peeping out from under the hat. They are all over the Internet and social media; you'd have to live in a remote village in Outer Mongolia not to recognise them. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but you get my drift. I was very surprised to see him here and even more so that he was on his own and not currently being mobbed by fans or selfie hunters.

Jake and I did two songs together then I sang a couple on my own. It was as I was singing Dido's 'Sand in my Shoes' that I caught his eye and when his lips curved up a little at the edges I found it very difficult to look away - in fact, I ended up singing the line 'I want to see you again' right to him then was mortified. To cover up I picked another couple of cute guys in the audience - although it was slim pickings tonight, to be honest with you - and sang the line to them too, so he wouldn't get the idea that I was fangirling or anything.

"Thank you very much. We're going to take a short break but we'll be back in a few minutes. The management have asked me to remind you that this is a pub and the primary goal is to sell drinks - so wander over and, you know, buy a drink or two." There was a smattering of laughter; the regulars were used to my sense of humour by now. "See you soon."

I placed my guitar next to the stool, turned off the mic and headed to the bar; teasing Jake about the chord he'd missed in one of the songs earlier on in the set. We'd worked together for nearly ten years so he is practically like a brother to me and joking and ribbing were all part of the deal - we never took offense.

I ordered an iced tea - not usual bar fare, I know, but I had to sing another set and I found it helped my vocal chords - and while I was waiting for it, I heard the smooth, deep, velvety voice of a jaguar hiding in a cello.

"You have an amazing voice," the jaguar said.

"Thank you," I replied, turning towards him ever so slowly, mentally preparing myself. I mean, come on, I had to at least warn my ovaries against any unscheduled explosions, didn't I? "So do you."

His lips lifted up ever so slightly again - hold it together, ovaries, you can do it! - and he stuck out a large hand with long, slender fingers. "I'm Be -"

"Benedict. Yes." I cut him off - because, you know, I'm so totally cool, calm and collected right now.

He quirked an eyebrow and this time his lips - oh good lord, those Cupid bow lips - tightened into a bit of a grimace. My heart plummeted - had I managed to offend him already? After only seven words? Shit!

"You know who I am, obviously."

I got my own eyebrow action going and said in a voice only slightly breathier than my usual, "Do you still meet people who don't?" Realising he still had his hand out and not wanting to leave the guy hanging, I placed my own hand in his and shook it gently - and I might have given him a small squeeze in there somewhere. His hand was warm and soft and large enough that it almost engulfed mine completely.

He stood there looking at me so I took the liberty of looking right back and holy crap, even without my glasses on the man was freaking gorgeous. After what felt like hours but in reality was probably only a couple of seconds he gave a throaty chuckle and while my insides made all kinds of writhing movements he said, "Not very often, no. Unfortunately."

"I rest my case," I quipped before I could stop myself. Come on brain; work with me here.

He smiled, a full-blown smile so beatific I had to quickly grasp the bar for support, lest the knees that felt suddenly weak should decide to give up the ghost all together. The famous laugh lines around his eyes put in an appearance too and suddenly I was having trouble breathing. Someone give me oxygen before I...oh, okay, there, I managed to breathe again. Well done.

I think I smiled back; I'm not sure. It felt more like a nervous rictus but as he didn't turn and head for the hills, I assumed it actually looked more normal than it felt.

"You haven't told me your name," he purred then looked down at his hand and I discovered it still held mine. Now I understood the tingling sensation I was getting in my right arm - thank God, I was beginning to worry I was suffering a heart attack, except, you know, on the wrong side.

Do I just tell him my name or make him guess? Turn it into a game? Or maybe -

"Here you go Cara." That was Bob, the barman, handing me my iced tea. Great timing Bob, way to go.

"Thanks Bob," I muttered without even looking at him.

"Cara. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

Oomph! Another slug right in the ovaries. Can you get ovary transplants? I might just need a new set before the end of the night.

"Thank you." It was probably just a flirt line he used on every woman he met, but I was happy to take it; I didn't get called beautiful every day. Deciding it was time to extricate my hand from his, I gently removed it from his clasp and immediately felt sorry for my poor little hand, feeling so bereft and lonely down there at the end of my arm.

"I obviously can't buy you a drink," Benedict indicated my iced tea and smiled again and my knees started yelling 'Need help down here!' "Maybe a coffee? After you finish. Would that be...acceptable?"

Acceptable? Are you crazy?

"Sure." I was rather pleased at how relaxed and normal I sounded. That lasted all of - oh, I don't know, five seconds? - before verbal diarrhoea set in. "It's perfectly acceptable. People drink coffee. I drink coffee, in fact. Well, actually I don't usually drink it at night; it keeps me awake. I usually drink tea at night. But I could drink coffee if coffee were required." Oh good lord, now I'm adapting movie quotes. The only saving grace was that it wasn't one of his movies. I quickly wiped that thought from my mind in case thinking about it made me start doing it.

He tilted his head to one side and grinned and God help me, I grinned back. The man has an infectious grin, what can I say?

"Excellent. I look forward to coffee - or tea - with you later Cara." And with that he turned and headed back to his table, leaving me to sink slowly on to a bar stool and sip my iced tea as I wondered how I could stop myself waking up from this dream. Because it's got to be a dream, right?

We were back on stage five minutes later for our final set. The last song of the night was James Blunt's 'Stay the Night'; I joined in with Jake on the chorus and studiously avoided catching anyone's eye. Yes, you know who I mean. Or is it whom? Whatever. I didn't want to give him any ideas, is my point. He has a legion of fans all over the world and I was sure he didn't need my notch on his bedpost.

The applause was good and we grinned at each other as we took our bows. About half the patrons left while we were packing up our instruments and gear, the other half apparently getting in one more round before closing time. The boys started carrying the stuff out to Rick's van and I drew Jake aside.

"Listen Jake, I'm going to stay here for a bit and have a cup of c...tea."

"You want me to stay with you and give you a ride home?"

"No, that's okay, I'll take a taxi." He looked at me strangely, as if it seemed like I was going to an awful lot of trouble and expense just to get a drink I could easily have at home. "I'm...meeting someone," I said to explain it and saw his eyes flicker quickly in the direction of where a certain tall, currently dark-haired actor was sitting.

"Cara?" Correction: had been sitting.

I introduced them then said, "Thanks Jake, I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow," rolling my eyeballs towards the exit. He got the hint.

"See you Caz. Take care."

When he'd gone I turned towards Benedict, feeling my nerves come back again now that he was so close. I was never nervous while I was on stage singing but in situations like this - one on one - well, let's just say that anything could happen.

"Shall we sit or would you prefer to go somewhere else?"

"Here's good." Here was just fine; here there's help on hand if needed - by him, I mean, not me. In case I, you know, lost it or something. Bob could lock me up in the wine cellar. If he has one, which come to think of it I don't know. I'll have to ask him some time.

He asked if I had a preference in tea and laughed when I said that it wouldn't matter, Bob only has one type. "Tell him it's for me," I said, "and he won't charge you." Then I realised who I was talking to and told myself to keep quiet. A second later I remembered something. "Benedict?"

"Yes?"

"Would you please ask Bob to give you my bag?"

He smiled, nodded and held my chair out for me before moving to the bar. I took the opportunity to take a deep breath and count to ten but I was obviously drawing the 'one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi' out too long because he was back by the time I got to five, handing me my bag and saying, "Bob said he'll bring the drinks over."

"Okay. Thank you."

 

I rummaged around in my bag and found my glasses case. When I put on my specs Benedict was suddenly there right in front of me in sharp focus now instead of soft like when you use the edge blur effect in iPhoto. I blinked a couple of times - you know, just to be sure it was actually him - and caught my breath when he smiled at me.

"They suit you," he said.

"What do?" I know, stupid question, but hey, I was nervous. Cut me some slack.

"The glasses." Duh.

They were your typical geeky-look black frames not dissimilar to his own; my friends always told me they made me look more intelligent and I was never sure whether or not to feel insulted at that. Did they mean I didn't look intelligent without them? But Benedict hadn't said they made me look intelligent, only that they suited me. I puzzled over that one for a while until he spoke again.

"So, Caz?"

"Yes?" Then I realised what he meant. "Oh, Jake's from Australia originally, they abbreviate everything apparently. Seems my two-syllable name is just too much for him to handle. Goodness only knows what he would do with yours."

He laughed - a real laugh of amusement, not a fake social laugh - and I caught sight of a crooked tooth in his lower jaw. Aw, cute. Just as I was about to mention it Bob arrived with my tea and Benedict's coffee, which was probably just as well; is asking someone about a wonky bicuspid socially acceptable? I suddenly had my doubts.

"Thanks Bob."

"You're welcome Cara." I noticed my companion wasn't included in the welcome. "I'm right over here in case you need anything. Anything at all." He gave me a pointed look that went straight over my head; I frowned and shook my head slightly and in response he rolled his eyes towards Benedict, who had seen our little interaction and gave a small smile, looked me right in the eyes and winked. I think Bob was a bit startled when I laughed out loud; he just patted my shoulder and went back behind the bar.

"Bob's very protective of you." His smile reached his eyes.

"I've known him a long time. Am I going to need protection?"

"I hope so." What the hell did that mean? He hoped he was going to attack me later? He hoped I would get mugged on the way home? Am I meant to go to my mind palace and deduce this? "That came out wrong." Um, yeah. I raised an eyebrow to encourage him to explain. "I meant I hope you need...no, I hope we'll...actually, can we just delete that whole thing and pretend it never happened?" He looked rather embarrassed so I took pity on him.

"Okay, but just so you know, Bob has a black belt in jiu-jitsu." I was bull-shitting but he didn't need to know that, right?

I held my cup in both hands in front of my face, taking occasional small sips and looking at Benedict over the top as he drank his coffee. "Is that black with two sugars?" I asked.

"How did you know that?"

"That's how...oh God, sorry. Forget I asked. I should just not talk; it's much safer that way. When I'm nervous I only have two speeds - no talking at all but my thoughts are racing around inside my head like a jackrabbit on crack, or spewing words out really fast without thinking and sounding like...well, like a jackrabbit on crack I suppose."

"You're nervous?"

"Well duh."

"Why?"

"Because you're...you. Breadsticks Crumblebatch." Shit! Did I seriously say that out loud? To his face! All right Karma, open up a fiery pit and swallow me now.

He laughed and put down his cup. "Cara?"

"Yes?" How is it he is still smiling at me?

"You are the most fascinating woman I have met in a long time."

Well, that was unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading Ben and Cara's story; I hope you are enjoying it so far. I love feedback, so please feel free to leave comments.


	2. I Know I'm Not the Only One

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Not at all."

"Are you sure? It's rather personal."

He thought about it for a minute then looked at me. "As long as you don't mind if I decline to answer."

"Deal." I sat my teacup in the saucer as I plucked up the courage to ask him something I had been wondering about for years. "How did you get that little scar just below your lip?"

"That's your personal question?"

"Well, yes. I'm sorry, it's just I've always imagined something along the lines of you fell off your bike when you were a little boy... You don't have to answer."

He reached across the table and put his hand over mine and of course the tingling arm was back again, only this time it could in fact be a heart attack as it was the left arm.

"Cara, it's fine. I don't mind, I just wasn't expecting...well, I thought you would ask something different. I'm happy to tell you how I got it." A smile lit his face again – it's no wonder he has all those smile/laughter lines, they were really getting a good workout tonight. "In actual fact, you are dead on the money, I did fall off my bike. When I was six. I was showing off to some friends of my parents and didn't see a rock on the path and – well, went arse over tit, basically."

That made me giggle and then he giggled too and we both sat there giggling like teenage girls. Is that sexist? Do teenage boys giggle too? As I'm a girl, I can only speak from my own personal experience so I'm not entirely sure what teenage boys get up to. Well, apart from...you know...masturbating, which apparently they do quite a lot of, if my brother and his friends are to be believed. Now I'm rambling again – see, nerves.

"So tell me about yourself."

"Hmm, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"You've already said you find me fascinating. If I share too much – which I will do, because I am nervous and when nervous seem to lack a filter – you will find I'm a little on the kooky side. Well, that's putting it mildly my friends tell me. They say much worse. Which is fine, because, you know, they're my friends. Anyway, you'll suffer through it for a while because you are a polite person and, of course, a brilliant actor, so you can pretend to be interested when you're not. Then eventually you'll make a sweet but patently obvious excuse to leave, kiss me goodbye on the cheek and walk out of here never to return."

His lips twitched a little but he kept a straight face when he asked, "What if I like kooky? What if I am looking for some kooky in my life?"

That floored me. I looked into his eyes, which – in hindsight – was a dangerous thing to do because hell's bells, those are some amazing peepers. I was trying to remember the name of the condition he has that makes his eyes different combinations of colours but gave it up (science has never been my strong point) and settled for being completely mesmerised by blue, green and gold. I opened my mouth to say something self-deprecatory but what actually came out was, "Then you've come to the right place."

And I winked at him.

I didn't know ahead of time I was going to do it, it just sort of happened and no-one was more astounded than me to realise I was flirting with him. Me. And he, if his reaction were to be believed and it wasn't just the polite acting I'd been talking about a second ago, was...enjoying it. The flirtation I mean. Yeah, okay, you got it, I didn't need to labour the point – sorry, nervous reaction. Umm, I'll stop now, okay?

His eyes twinkled at me and his whole face just looked...happy. I can't think of any other way to describe it and for me to be short of words is, well, you know, unusual.

I took a deep breath and plunged on while I was on a roll. "How about I tell you one thing about me and you tell me one thing about you? Something that isn't common knowledge already I mean, not a factoid I can get off the Internet." I hastened to add, "But nothing I can sell to the tabloids and make enough money to buy my own Gulfstream, obviously."

I was kind of getting to really like the way I could cause his mouth to quirk up at the sides in a delicious little half smile. Yum.

"I've already shared one with you," he said, raising an eyebrow. "It's your turn."

I frowned and he put his index finger to the little scar under his lip.

"Ah, that doesn't count," I told him. "We weren't playing the game then."

His response was to move thumb and finger along his lips in mimic of a zip. He even mimed throwing away the key then had the cheek to grin when I gave an exasperated sigh.

"Okay. Give me a minute..." What am I going to tell him? Out of all the thousands of thoughts jumbling around in my head I had to pick just one to share and it had to be a good one. Oh God, the pressure!

"My first sexual encounter was on the back of a horse."

He spat the last sip of his coffee all over the table in front of us and I grinned widely as I went to get a serviette from the bar to mop it up with. When I came back he helped me wipe.

"God, Cara!"

"Too much? I told you I don't have a filter. Seriously, I've got to learn to just shut my -" His fingers were on my lips, stopping me before I could get into full-steam-ahead crazy.

"Not too much, just...surprising."

I suddenly noticed how closely we were standing, how good he smelled and how nice his fingers felt against my skin. The urge to open my lips and draw them into my mouth was almost overwhelming and I struggled against it, wondering where the hell this intense lust had sprung from and realising it must show on my face when I saw his pupils dilate and heard him take a little breath. My unreliable knees were weakening again and moisture began pooling in a place it had no right to do while I was standing in a public area with a world famous actor.

"Ben," I breathed against his fingers. God, what I wanted to do to those fingers. What I wanted those fingers to do to me. I saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed and knew my eyes had to be getting as dark as his were. Did I mention how hot it had gotten in here?

"Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen!" Bob's call broke the spell and we broke apart. His hand dropped back to his side and I picked up the soggy serviettes, holding them for a minute or two before putting them back down on the table. Bob would deal with those. I looked around the room for what seemed like the first time in hours and saw a couple looking our way, the girl reaching for her phone. Without thinking I grabbed my bag and Benedict's hand and tugged him towards the exit.

"Come on," I urged.

I dragged him out the door after calling goodnight to Bob and began heading to a café nearby that was open till three in the morning. Jake and I and the band often went there after a gig; their sweet potato wedges with sour cream and sweet chilli sauce were amazing. My mouth was watering just thinking about them so it wasn't until I felt his fingers curling around mine that I realised I was still holding Benedict's hand. If felt nice; I'm not going to lie.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Oh!" I stopped walking and looked at him. "I don't eat before a gig so I'm starving." With perfect timing my stomach gurgled and he gave a small grin. I ran my other hand through my hair. "Have you had dinner?" He nodded. "Oh, so...sorry, I pulled you out of there because someone was about to take a photo which I assumed you wouldn't want, but um...well, I'm sure you have better things to do than watch me eat, so..." I tried to disentangle my fingers from his but he wouldn't let me.

"I'm happy to watch you eat," he smiled, "Besides, I have some questions about the whole sex on a horse scenario."

I smiled back, said okay, and started walking again.

"Cara?"

"Yes?"

"The answers won't scar me for life will they?"

I laughed. "I make no promises Mr Cumberbatch!"


	3. Cold Shower

"Hey Cara."

"Hey Joe."

Joe's was usually pretty packed so I was surprised to see we were the only ones in the café.

"The usual?"

"Please."

"Your friend?"

"Nothing for me, thank you." Benedict replied.

I led him to a table in the far corner just in case we weren't alone for long and sat down in the chair facing the room so he could have his back to it. Remembering water, I leapt up again to go fetch some and was taken aback when he stood as well. I halted in surprise and we both stood there doing nothing.

"I'm just going to get us some water," I told him.

"Would you like some help?"

"No, I'm good. Thank you." I shook my head, still not sure why he'd stood up. "The men's room is down there to the left," I told him, pointing to the other end of the room in case that was what he wanted.

He nodded. "Okay, thanks." He didn't move so after a few seconds I left him to it and went to get a bottle of water and two glasses. I almost dropped the lot when I returned to the table and he rose to his feet again. When it dawned on me that he was being polite I muttered something about 'Kate & Leopold' under my breath as I sat down, inwardly feeling rather warm and cuddly in the face of such chivalry.

"Do you watch a lot of movies?" Benedict asked with another of those lip twitches as he took the water bottle and poured for us both.

"Hmm, define a lot," I took a sip of my water. "I mean, what seems like a lot to one person may be just a drop in the ocean to someone else; my movie watching statistics could be triple or quadruple those of – oh, a little old lady, say, or a young person – but compared to those of a movie critic would be no more significant than...um...the number of freckles on my nose."

He stared at my face. "You don't have any freckles on your nose."

"I have three." He frowned like he didn't believe me. "Two of them are hidden under my glasses," I said, "and the third one is right here." I placed a finger on the spot and he brought his head closer. Our eyes met and held. "You're not looking," I managed breathlessly.

"I am looking Cara." The deep timbre of his voice made me shiver. "You have beautiful –"

"Here you go." Joe arrived with my wedges and we both jumped and sat up straight in our seats. Dammit, what is with everybody interrupting things tonight?

"Thanks Joe. Pretty quiet in here tonight."

"There's a big cricket match on, they're all down at the sports bar on Ferguson."

He turned and left; Joe was a man of few words.

I sat and looked at the plate of wedges, torn between hunger and dying to know what Benedict had been about to say. I could see the sour cream starting to melt in a few spots and the smell from the sweet chilli was wafting towards my nostrils; the shallot and bacon toppings teasing me with their greasy, shiny finish. Oh, who am I kidding? I told Benedict to help himself as I grabbed a wedge, piling it with cream and topping and bringing it to my mouth, hoping I wouldn't drool saliva all down my front. Oh God, they're so good! As I devoured another one I closed my eyes and sighed; when I opened them again he was watching me.

"You can't just sit there and watch me eat. Either have some or talk. It's your turn for a little known fact."

"You still have to tell me the story of your...adventure on the horse," he reminded me.

"After I'm finished, I promise," I said, indicating the food in front of me. "Come on, spill."

So while I ravenously devoured most of the plate of wedges he regaled me with tales from his childhood, teenage years and time at university. Quite a few of them made me laugh and at one point I made a strange noise out of my nose.

"Did you just snort?" he asked, laughing, his eyes shining brightly behind the geeky specs.

"I might have made a sound that to an uneducated ear would appear to be a snort; in actual fact it was more like a guffaw or a chortle, a snicker if you will. Definitely not a snort. Nope." I popped my 'p' and watched his eyes widen in recognition. "Ladies do not snort Benedict, didn't your mother ever tell you that? Tsk, tsk." I shook my head in mock disapproval and grinned at him.

"Ben."

I blinked. "Sorry?"

"Call me Ben, like you did...earlier."

"Okay...Ben." My voice came out all soft and husky. I cleared my throat and squirmed in my seat, all kinds of thoughts jumbling around in my head – most of them inappropriate for a café I might add, or any public place for that matter. Some of them were almost too R-rated even for me to be thinking.

"So," he cleared his throat too, rather loudly. "The horse?"

"Oh yes." So I told him all about it, wondering briefly how much detail was too much and whether he would be shocked that I had taken part in such an activity but then I figured, heck, I was never going to see the guy again after tonight so what difference did it make. "And then the horse whinnied and headed back to the stable."

He sat silent for a minute, taking it all in, opening his mouth a couple of times as if he were about to say something then closing it again. Finally he said, "Fuuuuuuuck Cara!"

"Yes," I said, "that was the general idea." Once again my mouth had moved into gear without waiting for my brain to engage. I clapped my hand over it and stared wide-eyed at Ben, waiting for his reaction. Our eyes locked again and before I knew what was happening we both burst out in giggles, laughing so hard and so long I had tears in my eyes and a pain in my side. It was one of those times when you stop giggling but then you hear the other person giggle, so you start again – you just can't help it. We set each other off each time it looked like we'd stopped. And Ben's giggle? Oh em gee is all I can say.

Joe appeared to clear my plate away and I wiped the moisture from my face, seeing Ben do the same, our laughter dying away at last.

"What time is it Joe?"

"Ten after one," he threw over his shoulder as he walked away.

I stood up, which of course meant Ben stood up too. "I have to go, I have an early start." I put my hand out and Ben took it in his. "It was lovely meeting you. Thank you so much for the tea."

"I'll see you safely home," he offered.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," I assured him. "I'll take a taxi, there's usually a few around the area. I mean, I'm not going to walk or anything, not at this time of night...um, morning...and not around here, that's for sure. I don't have a death wish. The last tube goes at one so I've missed that and there aren't any buses that go anywhere near my place, so –"

He cut me off again, fingers on my lips as he stepped closer, so close I could smell his after-shave or cologne. Whichever it was, it smelled really good. Woodsy and earthy; it was very masculine. Add that to the feel of his breath in the top of my hair – yes, even in my boots with the three-inch heels, I still only come up a fraction above his shoulder – and the fact that the thumb of the hand that still held mine was now rubbing the palm in a way that was...rather...sensual.

"Cara, please." He took his fingers off my mouth and moved them to lift my chin so I looked him in the eye. "Allow me to escort you home."

I merely nodded, overwhelmed; my senses were all screaming at me with new sensations and I was experiencing a strange feeling in my chest and ribcage.

We bid Joe goodnight and left the café, our hands still entwined; when I tried to withdraw mine Ben had simply curled his fingers tighter around it and squeezed gently and I took that to mean he wasn't releasing me any time soon. I smiled, finding I didn't mind at all. We didn't have to walk terribly far before we hailed a taxi; he held the door for me then got in beside me and sat close enough that our legs and thighs touched, our joined hands resting on his knee.

I gave the driver my address and we rode in silence for a while. That's right – me, silent. Imagine that if you can.

"You're very quiet," he said softly.

"Yes."

"Thoughts like a jackrabbit on crack?"

He remembered? Oh my. "Yes."

He looked into my eyes. "Good thoughts?"

"Thoughts of you, so...yes."

He sucked in a breath almost as if he'd taken a punch to the gut and his eyelids were suddenly half closed. He turned towards me a little more and his other hand came up to rest against my cheek, the thumb rubbing across my lower lip so softly it was barely there and his voice was low and rough when he murmured my name. The next second his lips were on mine; soft, seeking, asking. Mine said yes and the kiss deepened, my mouth opening to his, my hand coming up to cup the back of his neck and pull him closer. Incredibly, my thoughts were stilled. All I could concentrate on was the feel and taste of his mouth; nothing else existed for me in those minutes.

When the taxi stopped outside my flat we were still kissing, both of Ben's hands now on my back and mine tangled in his curls. The driver cleared his throat noisily and we reluctantly pulled apart, breathing heavily. I opened my door and was part way out when Ben said, "Cara...phone."

"Yes," I breathed, "call me tomorrow...today...later." I leaned back to give him another quick kiss then got out of the taxi before I could change my mind. It wasn't until I was inside my flat, leaning against the door and touching my kiss-swollen lips that I realised I'd forgotten an extremely vital element: I hadn't given Ben my phone number.


	4. What's Happening Here?

"Sorry guys! I'm late, I know, I'm so sorry. Things have been running late all day."

"Caz, chillax love. We've been practising some of the new chord changes so it's not a problem."

"Okay, thanks." I took a deep breath, picking up my guitar and slinging the strap around my shoulder then looked at the list of songs for the first set. "Where do you want to start?" When I was concentrating on music I could calm my thoughts down from their usual breakneck speed, part of the reason why I loved playing and singing so much.

We rehearsed for a couple of hours before we took a short break; as it was Saturday the pub had a late licence and we'd be playing for an extra hour. Some of the songs on the list were ones we'd done many times before; we rehearsed only the new ones or those where the arrangement had been changed. It was a bit of an eclectic mix but the regular punters seemed to like it that way. Occasionally we'd have a theme night and do just one genre of music or play hits from only one band; we had a country/folk night coming up soon.

"Cara?" Bob approached me during our break.

"Hi Bob, how's it going?"

"Someone dropped this off for you earlier in the day." I looked at the piece of paper he held out to me, puzzled. "Tall guy that was here last night."

"Oh!" A warm feeling came over me. "Thanks." I took the folded paper and opened it to find a phone number written in bold blue ink. I smiled and excused myself, retrieved my phone from my bag and went into a quiet corner to make the call.

I heard it ring a few times then a familiar voice answered. "Benedict Cumberbatch." I caught my breath and hesitated, my head spinning and feeling completely at a loss. What on earth do I say? Hi, it's the woman who was sucking your face in a taxi last night. Or hello, it's the kook who talks the hind leg off a donkey. "Hello?" It was Ben's voice again, but I panicked and hung up without saying a word. Oh shit! My brain was so addled that when my phone rang a few seconds later I answered it without thinking.

"Hello?"

"Cara?"

"Yes."

"It's Ben."

"I know." I should say more. "How are you?" I groaned internally; not exactly scintillating, but any start is better than none I guess.

"Very well thank you. And you?" His voice sounded like he was smiling.

"I'm good. Are you smiling?"

"Yes, why?"

"It just...sounds like you're smiling. Are you having a good day?"

"I am now." Oh goodness. "When can I see you again?"

"I'm at rehearsals now, probably for another couple of hours. Then I'll be free until eight thirty. Tomorrow is Sunday, so I have a lie in till around seven thirty...no, eight. So any time after that I guess, I have no plans." I hoped that would be enough information; maybe he didn't mean this weekend? He could be busy and intend something much later in the week. Perhaps I should tell him more -

"Have dinner with me?"

"When?"

"Tonight. No – you don't eat before a show; sorry, I just remembered. A late lunch?"

"All right. Where?"

"My place. I'll cook."

Whoa. His place? I remembered our make-out session in the taxi and wondered if going to his place was a good idea. Not that I didn't trust him, it was me I was worried about; it hadn't been easy leaving those strong arms and warm lips. No sirree.

"Cara?"

"Yes, I'm still here."

"We can go out if you'd prefer."

"No, your place is fine." I crossed my fingers.

"I'll text you the address, just come when you finish rehearsing, it doesn't matter what time it is."

"All right." Just then Jake called to me that we were starting again. "I have to go, we're getting back into it." We said our goodbyes and I went to rehearse.

\---

I paced around outside his building, wondering what the hell I was doing here. As always when faced with a 'do I or don't I' situation, I made a mental list of pros and cons. Pros: he is sweet, kind, funny, intelligent and sexy; we're both performers, so kind of vaguely understand each others professions; there was definite chemistry and I like him. Hmm, not a huge list of pros. Okay, cons: he's a major star of stage and screen, both large and small, so he moves in completely different circles; he has an incredibly busy lifestyle, much of it lived in the public eye; there is the small matter of that scar. No, just kidding, I only threw that in to even up the numbers.

"Cara?"

"Shit!" I jumped and turned around too quickly, tripping on my own feet and would have fallen had not two strong arms wrapped around me to prevent it. "Stop sneaking up on me like that!" My voice was a bit muffled, buried as it was in his chest as he held me tight – probably afraid I would trip over my own shadow next.

"I'm sorry. I saw you from my window and came down to let you in." He was laughing; there was a rumbling vibration underneath my head that was doing all kinds of crazy things to my internal organs – well, just the ones I needed for breathing and reproduction. I could smell his cologne again and right in front of my eyes was a patch of bare chest revealed by an open shirt button. Although I hadn't been to mass in a very long time I began reciting a Hail Mary to myself because of the sinful thoughts the sight of that bare skin brought on. "Are you okay now? Shall we go up?"

I nodded, not quite ready for speech. The arms unwrapped and the chest moved away as his smiling face came into view, sans glasses this time. I looked at him, trying to decide if I liked him best with or without.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, tilting his head slightly but still smiling. Because I have no filter when nervous, I told him. "What did you decide?" he wanted to know.

I shook my head. "Jury's still out."

He reached out and with both hands took my glasses off then put them back again. "I like both looks on you."

Well, heck.

He took me upstairs to his flat and while he worked in the kitchen I wandered around looking at his artwork, knick-knacks and books. Mostly books. I added a love of books to his pros list then as a tantalising smell drifted from the kitchen I also added ability to cook. But thinking about the pros list also brought to mind the cons list and I went to the kitchen area and watched him for a while. He was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged his butt and strong legs very nicely and a blue shirt that pulled across his shoulder and arm muscles as he worked.

When he turned and saw me watching I asked, "Ben, why am I here?" My face told him that this was not a time to give a flippant answer.

He took off the oven mitts he'd been wearing and came toward me, taking both my hands in his and looking into my eyes as he answered.

"You are here because I was seduced by your singing and your easy banter with the audience; because I like your sense of humour and the refreshing way you blurt out whatever you're thinking when you're nervous. Hopefully because you are as attracted to me as I am to you." He tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Because I would really like to get to know you better and while I realise that being a part of my life is...not without its complications, I am very much hoping that you will be."

I took a deep breath. "Holy crap, that's a good answer."

He smiled. "See? Refreshingly honest." Then he drew me closer and kissed me and I forgot everything else.


	5. Unofficial Secrets Act

"How do you have your coffee?"

"Milk with one sugar please."

"Shall we take it out on the balcony?"

When he'd poured and handed me my cup I followed his lead and we sat in the lukewarm sun gazing out over rooftops and a large patch of green that stretched further around than I could see. "Is that Hampstead Heath?" I asked, indicating the green.

"Yes."

"Did you know it came about when Ethelred the Unready granted five acres to one of his servants in 986? Then the monastery of St Peter's at Westminster Abbey held it until part of it was –"

I stopped because he was suddenly on his knees in front my chair, removing the cup from my grasp to place it nearby then taking both my hands in his, looking me in the eye with a soft, gentle smile on his face. "Cara," I nodded, "as fascinating as that is and as impressed as I am that you know the history of the Heath," I gave a half smile, "I think you're still nervous and I'm wondering what it's going to take to make you feel at ease in my company."

"Oh." I blinked.

"Is it the acting thing? Because I could totally blow that off and become an astrophysicist."

That made me laugh, which made him smile. "It's partly that I guess. But mostly it's...you."

He frowned a little, obviously puzzled. "Me?"

I sighed. "Oh god, you're going to make me say it out loud." I was well used to feeling embarrassed after I had said things; I wasn't so fond of feeling embarrassed even before I said them. "Ben, I..." Oh crap, I just had to man up and say it. I squirmed a little in my seat. "It's not unusual to get very nervous around...really...hot...guys."

Now it was his turn to say, "Oh." I closed my eyes, mortified, only to open them again in surprise when he said, "You think I'm hot?"

"Of course." Seriously? Does he not know himself at all? "You are intelligent and witty and charming – and that combination alone makes me literally weak at the knees. You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen and this whole..." I tugged a hand free of his and waved it up and down, "slim, muscular bod thing you have going is...and dammit, you smell so good...don't even get me started on your giggle..."

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me forward on my chair as his lips crashed into mine and once again all thought was wiped from my head. I put my hands on his chest, finding that patch of skin that had tantalised me outside and running my fingers over it lightly, feeling him quiver at my touch.

"You are the most beautiful, tantalising seductress I have ever met," he murmured as his lips moved their assault to my neck. I almost looked around to see who else was in the room but the nibbling at my earlobe totally distracted me. "You're not nervous when I kiss you."

I mumbled something, I think.

"Clearly I'm just going to have to kiss you more often."

Yikes.

"Ben," I breathed, pushing him back a little so I could look in his face, "this is...madness. We met less than twenty-four hours ago." I've got to be honest; I was a little impressed I could still do math even that simple with him there so close.

"I know." He leaned forward to rest his forehead on mine. "What have you done to me woman?" The teasing note in his voice made me smile.

"Oh, so it's my fault is it? Let me just remind you that it was you who came to my place of work mister; you with your deep voice and geeky glasses."

"Well, if we're going to start talking geeky glasses..."

I punched him lightly on the shoulder; he raised his head, a hand smoothing my hair back then running ever so gently down the side of my face as he smiled at me. My hand did the same, fingering the wild curls – his Sherlock hair; he was obviously filming for that – then over one of his incredible cheekbones and across to the perfect bow of his upper lip.

"Cara, what do you want to do?" He asked me softly and I knew he didn't mean whether I wanted to go to a movie or see a play; he meant what did I want to do about this...whatever this was between us. And what was it anyway? My head hurt trying to figure out if it was a spiritual connection or just pure crazy hot lust or maybe even – no stop! I'm not going to start thinking it could be anything more. This quickly? That only happens in Disney movies and cheap romance novels. No, that's not what's going on here, nah ah.

I searched his face as I thought, finally realising I just had to switch my brain off – right, 'cos that's not difficult – and answer from my heart. I took a deep breath. "I really like what you said about...getting to know you better, but..."

"But?" He seemed to be holding his breath.

"But...I don't think I could handle all the...you know; fans, photos, public stuff."

"We keep it private. I can do private Cara." His hand cupped my cheek gently. "If that's what you'd like."

"I'd like that very much." Wait, what? But I had no time to think about what I'd said because any thought in my head – along with the breath in my lungs – was swept summarily aside as the singularly most amazing smile I had ever seen in my life spread over Ben's face; it was as if he'd been illuminated from the inside and if I had thought he looked gorgeous before – oh dear Lord in Heaven! The man positively glowed. Did I do that?

\---

"I should go."

"I'd like to come and hear you sing again; shall I sneak in the back once the lights are down?"

"Hmm, you'll have to wear a much better disguise than you did last night." I gave a little grin at the spluttering sound he made in reaction to my teasing. "I honestly don't know who you think you were fooling with that get up."

I leapt off his couch and ran, skipping around a coffee table and narrowly avoiding knocking over a lamp. I had no idea where I was headed but it didn't matter because his long legs caught up with me before I'd gone very far; his almost equally long arms wrapped around me from behind and lifted me up off the ground until my legs were kicking wildly against nothing. "Ben!" I laughed, "Put me down!" My hands were over his and I was wriggling like an eel.

"You'll have to pay a fine for that cheekiness." His voice was almost a growl but I heard laughter in there too. It was a pretty potent combination; I felt goose bumps break out on my arms and wondered if he would notice.

"What do you have in mind?" I stopped struggling and he lowered me gently to the floor but didn't let go. Feeling rather emboldened, I turned within the circle of his arms and placed my palms on his chest. I had to tilt my head back to look into his face; I was only wearing flats and while looking straight ahead gave me a pretty fabulous view of the buttons on his shirt that screamed for release, it didn't help me to interpret his thoughts or feelings.

"A kiss."

"That's it? One kiss?" I quirked a brow in query, meeting his steady gaze.

"Yes."

"All right." Then out of nowhere I was taken over by a rather heady feeling of mischief and power and an evil plan planted itself in my head. "Now or later?" I asked.

He hesitated, looking at me quizzically. "I only ask," I continued, "because it makes quite a difference to the type of kiss." I began undoing his top button while he watched me with hooded lids. "If you choose a kiss now," I undid another button and felt his arms tighten a little around me, "then it will need to be a very quick kiss as I have to go to work and, obviously, I can't be late." A third button was opened. "But if you choose to have your kiss later," I made short work of the last button and slid my hands inside his shirt, running my fingers lightly over his abdomen, shivering at the heat of his skin and the firmness of the muscles that had tensed at my touch. "Then I can take my time and make it much more..." I looked up into his face. "Interesting."

"Cara..." He sounded like he was struggling for breath and that heady rush flooded through me again. I didn't know where the hell it had come from, but goodness gravy, I was enjoying it. Immensely.

"Now or later Benedict?"

His eyes closed as his chest heaved.

"Later," he growled, though this time there was no laughter in it.

I stretched up on to my tippy toes, took his face in my hands and planted a kiss on his surprised mouth. "Good," I said, "That's what I was hoping you'd say." Then I turned and walked out of his hold, picked up my bag and blew him a kiss as I headed towards his door. 

The poor man could only stare but as the door was closing behind me I heard him exclaim, "Fucking hell!" and I laughed as I skipped down the stairs.


	6. I Feel a Sin Comin' On

"We're going to slow the pace down a little now for this last set with some songs that have been around for a while...we wanted to add some sticky and sultry to the mix. If the urge to show your other half some PDA overtakes you...just remember...the security cameras are there, there, there and there." There was plenty of laughter as I pointed around the room. "And ladies, it's true what they say about the camera adding ten pounds." A groan could be heard from a few women in the crowd. "Gentlemen, in your case I believe it's three inches." I grinned at the raucous laughter that followed.

The band started up and I launched into 'Slow Hand'.

I was wearing my favourite little black dress; it had shoestring straps, was the right length to show off my legs and clung to my curves in all the right places. Paired with heels I could walk in without tripping over myself, I felt great and got right into the groove of our last group of songs.

Jake covered 'Sexual Healing' and 'Let's Get It On' then I followed with 'Feel Like Makin' Love' and 'Do That To Me One More Time'. The audience lapped it up and by the time we got to the last song of the set half an hour later the small dance floor was packed and everyone was having a great time. We finished with both of us singing 'Kiss You All Over' and had to take two bows before we could leave the stage; we were all on an amazing high after the terrific response.

"Caz, you were totally on fire tonight!" Jake was so sweet at being complimentary, just one of the things I enjoyed about working with him. Despite being an incredibly talented player of almost any stringed instrument as well as a great singer, he always made a point of praising the other members of the group. "God, you were so sexy in that last set. If you weren't like a sister to me, I would so be all up in your thing right now!"

"Eww Jake, that's a mental image I don't need to take away with me!" I joked, but gave him a peck on the cheek to thank him for the nice things he'd said and we smiled at each other.

As we were loading our things into Rick's van, Marcus asked, "You coming to Joe's for a bite Cara?"

"I won't thanks guys, I had a late lunch so I think I'll just head home."

"Okay. We'll see you on Wednesday at Donoghue's."

"Sure. Six o'clock, right?"

"Yup."

I thanked them all for a great show and we hugged goodnight then I turned to head towards the Tube station; I had twenty minutes till the last train going my way, so there was no rush. I noticed a dark coloured Jag parked nearby and was wondering who was lucky enough to drive a nice car like that when the driver's window slid down and a deep voice spoke.

"May I offer you a lift home?"

"Ben?" The door opened and he climbed out, looking incredibly handsome in dark pants and white shirt - I mean, he looked really good. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to hear you sing," he strolled over to stand in front of me. "You were absolutely incredible, by the way." His voice was very deep as he said it and that woodsy, masculine scent was there again, teasing my nostrils. "And you look...simply stunning."

"You were here? Just now? How long have you been here? Were you here for the whole of the last set? I didn't see you." Oh Lord, don't let me get nervous now and start babbling again, the man must be getting sick of me babbling. Wait, no, he said he likes how I blurt out –

"I was lucky enough to arrive just before you started. Bob very kindly snuck me in a little alcove behind the bar so I could see and hear you without being seen."

"Oh!" We've sung at this pub for three years and I had no idea there was a little alcove behind the bar. Huh.

His hand moved to straighten a stray lock of my hair then his fingers feathered ever so softly down my neck to my shoulder. "So...ride home?" The fingers didn't stop there; they carried on down my arm, leaving it tingling and covered in goose bumps, made a swirling pattern at the pulse spot on my wrist that sent a shiver shooting through me, and ended up curling around my fingers, pressing warmly in a way that was electrifying and reassuring at the same time.

"Umm." I was playing for time; I knew he'd asked me something but the whole fingers on my bare skin thing had been so...distracting...that I couldn't remember...umm...oh yeah!

"In that?" I pointed at the Jag and he nodded. "Well, cover me in butter and call me toast – hell's yes!" I headed for the car.

"What did you just say?" He was spluttering with laughter and holding back as I tried to tug him towards the Jag.

"Don't waste time talking Cumberbatch, take me for a drive in this sexy beast!"

Suddenly he stopped, pulled me back towards him with the hand he was holding while placing the other on the small of my back, bent his head murmuring, "Speaking of sexy beasts," and kissed me. I barely had time to notice the gleam in his eyes before his lips claimed mine.

This was no soft, tentative seeking-permission caress of lips. It was incendiary - a hot, intense, tongue-lashing, teeth-nipping, lip-sucking, I-want-to-possess-you kind of kiss. The kind that made me moan into his mouth as I snaked one arm up around the back of his head to pull him closer; a kiss that swept every thought from my head except that I was duelling tongues with an absolute God of Kissing. He tasted like whiskey and honey and pure man and I couldn't get enough. I pressed to him, tangling my fingers in his curls and tugging his hair gently, my knees almost giving way when he gave a soft moan in response and pulled me closer still.

Then just like that the kiss was over and I was pushed away from him; before I could even become aware of my surroundings, he gave a low growl and practically dragged me to the Jag, opening the door and almost pushing me in before going around to the drivers side, folding his long legs into the space under the wheel. The engine roared to life and we drove off while I sat stunned, completely unsure of what was happening and why.

My heart was racing, my mouth dry and my breath coming in choppy gasps but the only thought in my mind was 'What the hell just happened?'

I looked over at Ben who was staring at the road, a tightness to his jaw that I hadn't seen before. In fact, his whole body looked...tense, as if he were focussing all his concentration on holding something in check. I knew he was aware of me looking at him but he didn't turn towards me and he didn't say a word.

That's when I got pissy.

Fine! You want to play the silent treatment game? Well two can play at that mister. I twisted in my seat so my body was angled toward the door and away from him; my arms were folded across my chest and I looked out at the night as if seeing the buildings and landmarks for the first time and being completely mesmerised by them. My breathing calmed but my anger was on a slow boil.

The car had barely come to a halt when I threw open my door and leapt out. I fished my keys from my bag as I strode to the gate, never more thankful than now that I had managed to snaffle a ground floor flat. I heard Ben call, "Cara, what the hell?" but ignored him, intent on getting inside before I exploded.

When he grabbed my arm I turned, giving him a blazing look and muttering in a low, intense voice, "Take your hand off me Benedict." He did.

"You're mad at me?"

"The actor picks up on nuance. Well done." Yeah, I could get a bit of a mouth on me when my back was up; Italian blood and all, you know. Once my nonna had – well, never mind, I'll save that story for another day.

"Why are you angry?" He seemed genuinely baffled but I wasn't in the mood to be trusting right now.

"Oh gosh, I don't know, could it possibly have something to do with what happened back there? When we were sharing what I – obviously mistakenly – thought was a pretty...amazing...kiss, then suddenly I'm being pushed away like I've developed leprosy. Then you sit in that...that gorgeous car – dammit, man, you totally ruined my first ever ride in a Jag – and you...you completely ignored me, you didn't even look at me! Am I not supposed to be mad at you Ben? How have your other lady friends reacted when you treated them that way? Or should I be flattered that I'm the first?"

I didn't wait for his answer; I left him gaping and got my key in the door faster than you can say chicken cacciatore. It gave me immense satisfaction to slam it in his face just as he appeared behind me.


	7. She Thought He Thought

"Cara, it's not what you think." His hands banged lightly on the door.

I clicked the deadlock, knowing he would hear it.

"Shit! Fuck!"

It seems the rumours of Martin being a bad influence on Ben's vocab are true.

"Cara, please, let me explain."

I didn't answer; I couldn't, I was still too upset. The anger was ebbing and hurt was taking its place, but the hurt was worse - much, much worse. The pain of rejection washed over me and left me shaking in its wake.

"Are you seriously going to make me explain through a closed door?" Yes I bloody am, I wanted to yell but couldn't. I rested my head against it, feeling the little prickle at the back of my eyes that told me tears were not far off.

"Okay, okay." I could almost hear him pacing up and down on the other side of the wooden barrier. "But promise me you'll hear me out; how do I know you're still there?"

I banged once on the door.

"Cara." His voice was lower, with a tender note that had been distinctly absent up until now. "I was sitting in the alcove when you came on to the stage for the last set. You told that joke about the cameras and you looked so...god, that dress...so damned sexy. Then you sang those songs...slow hands and kissing all over and lasting all night. Hell, I was so hard I was too scared to get off my stool in case Bob threw me out for being a pervert."

I made a small noise that I muffled behind my hand.

"When I had myself under control I went to wait in the car but then you were there, talking about sexy beasts...and that kiss...shit, that kiss. I wanted to push you up against the building and take you then and there but...you deserve better than that, much better, so I...I stopped. In the car I couldn't look at you or touch you for fear of losing control all over again."

He paused for a few seconds and I heard him take a deep breath. "I didn't mean it to look like I was rejecting you. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, it's the last thing..."

I opened the door.

"I'm truly sorry Cara." The look in his eyes when he thought he'd hurt me made the tears finally roll down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry too," I whispered.

He took another deep breath. "I want to hold you so badly."

"Then why aren't you?" I looked at him through the tears.

He gave the little smile at the corners of his mouth that I like so much. "Am I allowed in?"

I took a step forward and pulled him in, shutting the door behind him then wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him just as tightly as he was holding me, my head resting on his chest, my eyes closed. I heard the thumping of his heart and felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of my head as his hands rubbed my back. I sighed, the tension dissipating, and we just stood there holding each other for a while.

"Cara?"

"Yes?"

"Should I always be worried when you call me Benedict?"

I smiled into his chest. "Probably."

"Good to know." I squeezed his waist.

Another few minutes passed.

"Are you still free today?" I nodded. "Fancy going for a drive?"

I looked at him. "In the Jag?" He smiled and nodded. "Can I wear your flat cap?"

"Why?"

"I think it will look good on me."

"Is that your subtle way of saying it doesn't look good on me or are you just making a fashion statement?"

I grinned. "A little of both."

"Ouch!" he laughed and shook his head at me. "What have I let myself in for?" A huge yawn escaped my mouth and effectively stopped me from answering. "All right, I think that's as good a hint as any." He pressed a soft, warm kiss to my lips then unwrapped his arms and bid me goodnight. "Pick you up at eleven?"

"Yes." Another yawn.

"Buonanotte bella signora." (Goodnight beautiful lady)

My eyes widened. "You speak Italian?"

"A little. It's better than my Greek, but not by much."

"Buona notte Ben."

\---

We drove into Kent, windows down so we were buffeted by the mild wind, sunglasses on against the glare but also for Ben to hide, me wearing his flat cap and he in a Panama. I didn't pay much attention to our route, content to just enjoy the experience and his company as we chatted about all manner of things. After turning off the main road and travelling down country lanes for a while, he stopped at a gate marked 'Private Road' and got out to open it. "I'm not going to end the day at the local police station am I?" I asked him with a grin.

"The owners are old friends of my parents, you cheeky wench," he replied as he drove through then got out to close the gate again while I laughed. We drove another mile over a rough track until he pulled in near a stand of beautiful beech trees. Once we alighted he took a basket and blanket out of the boot, held out a hand to me and led me along a path that meandered through the trees and shrubs until eventually opening to a flat, grassed area that rolled gently down to a peacefully flowing stream.

"Ben, it's beautiful!"

"Joins up with the River Medway about a mile down that way," he nodded his head toward the east.

We set up our picnic spot then went for a walk, rambling hand in hand along the path, occasionally stopping to examine a flower or listen to a birdcall. I rolled up my jeans and dabbled my feet in the stream but it was far too cold to stay in for long.

"I believe you owe me a few interesting facts about yourself," Ben told me as we sipped on a cider after finishing our picnic. "For all the ones I told you at Joe's the other night." The sunlight dappled through the leaves overhead, the bubbling of the water nearby a peaceful serenade. I stowed my bottle safely and lay down on the blanket, sighing contentedly.

"What would you like to know?"

"Tell me about your family."

My contentment vanished in an instant and I grimaced; it was a topic that came with baggage. "Bare bones: my mother ran off with another man when I was ten; my father never got over her leaving. I have two older brothers and we were pretty much raised by our grandparents. Not terribly interesting, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry." He came to lie down beside me on his side, head propped up on his hand. "It must have been hard for you when your mother left."

"I won a spelling bee when I was eight." I avoided his eyes, hoping he would take the hint.

"Cara..."

My eyes squeezed closed and my fists clenched. "My winning word was incorrigible." Please, please, please, don't make me talk about it right now Ben. About all the nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering what I had done wrong to make my mother leave. Of asking myself how I had failed her as a daughter, thinking she had just stopped loving me. It took me a lot of years to realise that it was all to do with her and nothing to do with me, or my brothers.

I felt his hand take mine and interlace our fingers, a slight pressure applied in comfort, and I squeezed back in thanks, neither of us saying anything for a while. It gave me time to recover myself.

"Star Trek or Star Wars?"

The question was so unexpected I opened my eyes and looked at him. He looked back with a steady gaze but I saw a mixture of sympathy and understanding in the back of his eyes. That's when I first felt it, this strange little tug in the middle of my chest, so fleeting that I thought I'd imagined it. 

"Star Trek." How could I possibly say anything else? Duh.

He smiled. "Did you just say that because of – "

"Yes." Now I was smiling. The movie premiere was still a month away but everyone knew Ben was playing the villain, just not who that villain would be. My money was on Khan, personally, but hey I could be wrong. I was just hoping it wouldn't be someone slimy and horrible like the douchebag he'd played in Atonement.

"You don't have to do that."

I smiled again. "No shit Sherlock." It took a few seconds for the shocked look on his face to fade then he burst out laughing and my smile widened. I mentally punched my fist in the air, feeling I'd scored one for Sherlock fans everywhere.


	8. Later

"I believe I still owe you a kiss."

He was stacking plates in the dishwasher after a light dinner at my place and I was enjoying watching him in his form-fitting jeans and navy Lacoste shirt when my debt came to mind. Sure, we'd kissed plenty of times since I'd incurred the forfeit but none of them had been the kiss I'd promised him 'later'. At my words he paused in his task and turned to look at me and suddenly the air in the room seemed to get a whole lot warmer. Or maybe it was just me. When he straightened his movements were slow, supple and graceful, reminding me of a panther stalking its prey. What is it with him and big cats?

"Are you...offering to pay that debt now?"

Oh God. The look in his eyes...I licked my lips and saw his eyes dart there, heard a small intake of his breath. When I bit my lower lip he gave a soft, low growl in the back of his throat and parts of me started clenching. Holy crap, what this man does to me.

I knew that there was a very real chance that this would turn into something a whole lot more than just a kiss so I had to decide if I wanted that to happen. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I wanted it; there was no doubt at all about the way our bodies reacted to each other – the kiss outside Joe's had shown that - but there was still the issue that we've only known each other a short time.

I closed my eyes, trying to listen to my heart and not my hormones.

"Cara..." his voice was soft and husky. Opening up again I saw in his eyes an acknowledgement of my thoughts and acceptance of whatever decision I made; he was leaving it up to me.

Come on Obi-Wan, I need your guidance. Oh shit, a Star Wars reference! Mustn't tell Ben.

I took a deep breath when suddenly the heady feeling of power from yesterday was back and I welcomed it with open arms like an old friend.

"Go and sit on the couch," I told him, low-voiced.

Our eyes locked and I let him see my growing desire, echoed in the intensity of his look. When he brushed past me I drew my breath in sharply then followed him to the lounge, sitting astride him once he was comfortably seated. His hands moved to my hips but I put them back at his sides.

"Close your eyes," I told him, "and keep perfectly still unless I say you can move."

He obeyed my instructions but before his eyes closed I caught a glimpse of the depth of his passion, making my breath quicken just a tad. More than just a tad. The force is strong in this one. Crap! Star Wars again. I looked at him for a minute thinking how beautiful he was and then I began.

I ran my palms over his chest and across his collarbone, resting them on his shoulders as I leaned forward and began to lick and suck at the pulse beating at his carotid artery. I felt him draw in his breath and his arms twitched as if they wanted to move, but he kept them where they were. Next I worked my way slowly up the long smooth column of his neck, closing my eyes as the enticing smell of him enthralled me. His breath tickled my neck and shoulders, sending an electric jolt coursing down my spine. When my teeth grazed the spot just below his earlobe he groaned my name and my bits clenched again, big time, my breath becoming as erratic as his now was. I took the lobe in my mouth, sucking and nipping it lightly while my hands ran slowly and lightly across his shoulders and down the length of his arms, tracing his veins and tickling the sensitive spots at the inner elbow and wrists before I ran my nails softly back up to his shoulders. He shuddered and groaned, "I need to touch you."

"Not yet," I told him, changing to his other side. "God, you taste so good," I whispered in his ear, my hands now running through his hair as I completed my journey of his neck. He tasted of fresh air and the pine needles we'd playfully thrown over each other at the picnic.

"Cara..."

I ignored his pleas and shifted my attention to his face, bestowing small butterfly kisses to his temples, eyelids, laugh lines, cheekbones, chin and the very corners of his mouth, skirting but never touching his lips. "So beautiful," I murmured. His arousal was evident on his face, in the tight control he held over himself so he wouldn't move and the bulge in his jeans that teased my inner thighs.

Tugging his shirt loose, I told him to raise his arms and I dragged it up and over his head, throwing it to the side without giving a damn where it landed. The sight of his sculpted torso was almost my undoing and I realised I wanted to become familiar with every inch of his body; I knew he didn't have any tattoos but I wanted to discover any other scars, any minor flaws that would prove he wasn't as perfect as he appeared. "Bloody hell Ben."

"Cara, please..." I barely recognised his voice now, thick with lust and longing. I felt a surge of pleasure hearing it and ran my hands down the planes of his chest again, letting him know it's not okay to move yet. He is solid muscle beneath me and I'm almost dizzy from the reality of him, my senses threatening to overload on the sight, smell, taste and feel. I know I can't keep this up much longer so I quickly whisk my top off and throw it in the general direction of his, telling him quietly, "Lean forward a little but don't move your arms." When he does I wrap my arms around his back so he can feel we are now skin to skin and at last I bring my mouth to his, relishing in the soft warmth of his lips and tongue, taking in his breath and giving him mine, letting go every thought but him. He kisses me with equal tenderness but I can feel the passion he's holding back.

"Now you can move," I whisper when we break for air and he is galvanised into action, a coiled spring finally unleashed. I quickly move my arms around his neck, holding on tight as he begins to stand, his hands moving my legs to wrap them around his waist then coming to rest on my butt as he walks with me attached.

"Where?" is all he utters, all he seems capable of.

"Past kitchen, second left." He is walking even as I sound the first syllable.

Reaching my bedroom we don't bother turning on the light; there is sufficient moonlight streaming in my windows to provide all the illumination we need. He has barely laid me on the bed when his mouth is on mine again, urgently and roughly, letting me know he can't wait much longer. I reach down to undo his jeans and he does the same to mine, pulling them and my panties down my legs then removing his until there are finally no barriers between us. I scoot up the bed and he stalks panther-like over me. In the moonlight he is exquisite and it takes my breath away.

"Ti voglio," he breathes as he hovers over me. (I want you)

"Io sono tua," I reply and pull him to me. (I am yours)

The only sounds to break the silence after that are those of pleasure until we lie sated in each other's arms.

\---

When I wake I am aware of arms and legs entangled with mine and I smile, remembering the pleasures of the night before. I am held firmly against a warm body and feel his chest rising and falling steadily behind me. The sparse amount of daylight lets me know it is very early and I wonder what it was that woke me; I lay quietly until I hear it again – a faint buzzing sound followed by music, too indistinct for me to identify.

I move Ben's arm cautiously and slowly slide out of bed, following the noise until I find the culprit – in the far corner of the room his phone alarm is sounding in his jeans pocket. I switch it off and slip back into bed beside him, running my fingers through the thoroughly dishevelled mop of curls and smattering tiny kisses all over his face until he stirs, rolling onto his back to stretch and groaning before opening one cautious eye. The other soon follows.

"Good morning," I smile at him.

"Good morning." Good Lord, his sleepy morning voice is sexy.

"Your alarm went off."

"Mm." He rolls back on to his side and gathers me into him, kissing my hair and forehead. "I'm sorry, I have to go. We're filming today."

"That's okay, it's your job after all. You could be a fireman or an ambulance driver and have to work all kinds of crazy hours too; it's no different really. Or a doctor or someone in the armed forces, especially if they're serving overseas – or, oh, a member of the royal family who's in the armed –"

He cuts me off with a kiss. "Cara, you can't still be nervous around me, surely?" He sounded amused.

"I'm laying here naked with a gorgeous sexy man; of course I'm nervous."

"Then I should be feeling nervous too, laying here naked with an exceptionally beautiful and sexy woman."

There it was again; that weird tug in my chest. God, I hope I'm not having a heart attack.

"Me?"

"Can you see any other woman in this bed?"

Honest to God, I looked. Nope, no-one else here. He means me. He called me exceptionally beautiful and sexy. Oh my.

"I really have to go. Can I see you tonight or are you working?"

"No gigs tonight, its Monday."

"Is there a law against live music on a Monday night that I'm not aware of?" he asked as he moved off the end of the bed and went to look for his clothes.

"No, but...Ben, stop!"

He halted immediately, calling over his shoulder, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm just admiring your bum. Holy moly, Cumberbatch, that is a work of art. Do you do special exercises at the gym to tone it?"

He started chuckling but sounded a little embarrassed. "Cara!"

"Can I touch it?" I shuffled down towards the end of the bed and signalled to him to back up.

"God woman! You touched it plenty last night." He found his boxers and jeans and pulled them on.

"Oh that was your bum? I thought it was the alabaster perfection of Michelangelo's David." I fluttered my eyelashes at him. "Though I must say, I'm very glad that certain...other parts of your anatomy don't resemble David's."

He made a little choking sound and I grinned as I got off the bed and went up to him, standing on tiptoes and wrapping my arms around his neck. "Very, very glad," I murmured before I kissed him.


	9. La Familglia

"Cara, cara figlia mia, benvenuto." (Cara, my darling child, welcome)

"Ciao, nonna." I was enveloped in my grandmother's warm embrace that, as always, brought me a sense of peace, family and home. Although she's three inches shorter than me I am almost suffocated as she wraps me tightly in her arms and tucks my head onto her ample bosom, holding it firmly as she kisses my hair a number of times. From years of experience I know to just hold my breath until she finally lets me move and I can breathe again.

I kiss her on both cheeks then step back.

"Cos'è successo?"

She's looking at me like I've grown a second head or something. "What do you mean? Nothing's happened."

"You look different, cara mia. Something is changed."

"I've changed my hair," I reply, touching a hand to the intricate braid my thick dark hair is in instead of its usual ponytail or messy bun.

She doesn't look entirely happy with that explanation but says nothing more, bustling back to the kitchen table where I can see she's just finished making cannoli. She hands me one without having to ask, knowing I love nothing more than her freshly baked pastry. The filling is made from ricotta and pistachio, my grandfather's favourite, and I close my eyes in ecstasy as the flavours explode in my mouth.

"Mm, cosi buono, nonna. You make the best cannoli in the entire world."

"Have you tasted every cannolo in the world, child?" We have this same discussion every time I visit and usually I tell her that I don't need to do that to know that hers is the best.

Today, however, I am feeling particularly sentimental and instead I say, "You and nonno are my world, nonna," which surprises me as well as her. She turns to look at me then comes to place her hands on either side of my face as she stares into my eyes.

"Ah, ho capito," she murmurs enigmatically but when I ask her what she understands she simply smiles at me and says nothing. Before I can ask her again the door opens and my grandfather comes in with my brother Antonio right behind him.

"Cara, mia principessa!" I smile and greet my nonno, once again enveloped in a warm hug. He has called me his princess since I was a small girl and it never fails to make me feel loved and cherished.

"Ciao Cara," my brother greets me and I hug him too. I have to tiptoe to kiss them both – something that has always struck me as monumentally unfair is that the men in my family inherit height and curls, while the women are short with straight hair. And some people think God is a woman. Pffft. A female divine being would not have stuffed that one up.

"How's Maria doing, Tony?" My sister-in-law is expecting their third child in a week or two.

"She's tired but good. You should come visit."

"I will."

"Cara, mia bella, how is your singing and teaching ai bambini?" As well as being in the band with Jake and the guys, I teach singing and guitar to children in my neighbourhood, which helps bring in extra cash to pay the rent.

"It's good nonno, they're terrific kids."

"You should be getting married and having bambini of your own Cara." My grandmother likes to tell me this every time she sees me, but for some reason this time I get a little pang when I hear it.

"I'll get around to it one of these days nonna." I see Tony looking at me and I roll my eyes, causing us both to smile.

Soon nonna makes coffee and we all sit at the table enjoying a cup with more of her delicious pastries. Below us is the jewellery shop my grandparents own, which is now run by my brother Marco since nonno retired. Both of my grandparents are in their eighties, still as vital and sprightly as ever, involved in their community and extended family. My father is the second youngest of eight children; I've almost lost count of the number of cousins I have. Family gatherings are a noisy, rambunctious affair with mounds of food, wine, music and laughter. It's both wonderful and a nightmare at the same time.

When I get up to leave, promising to stop in and say hello to Marco on my way out, nonna accompanies me to the door. As she pulls me in for a hug she whispers in my ear, "Bring him to visit, cara mia."

"Who?" I ask, puzzled.

"The man who has put the sparkle in your eyes."

I mumble something unintelligible, blushing furiously, and get away from her as fast as I can, hoping the red will fade from my cheeks by the time I get downstairs so my brother doesn't start asking questions.

\---

"Try bringing your hand around here a little more. There, does that make it easier to reach?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now try the chord." Alexandra had fairly petite hands and some of the chords were a real challenge for her but she was an excellent student, never failing to try her very best. "That's it, Alex, you've got it." There was a knock at the door. "Keep going."

"Delivery for Cara de Luca." It was a huge bouquet of flowers, predominantly reds and purples with touches of white and lashings of green foliage. Their fresh aromatic fragrance was already flooding the room, bringing the scent of summer indoors.

"That's me." I was stunned. Who on earth was sending me flowers? I signed the docket and took possession of them, thanking the deliveryman as I closed the door and buried my nose in the bouquet, breathing deeply.

"Wow Cara, those are beautiful," Alex observed without ceasing her efforts.

"They certainly are. I'm just going to find a vase for them; you can take a short break if you like."

"That's okay, I'll keep trying."

Hunting around in my kitchen cupboards for a vase large enough, I kept glancing at them, finding it difficult to keep my eyes away. Once I'd filled the vase I removed the cellophane and began arranging the flowers, discovering a card tucked away at the very heart of the group.

These vivacious blooms reminded me of you. BC

Oooohhh.

"Are you okay?" Alex's question brought me out of my daze and I realized I'd been staring at the card for a while.

"Yes, I'm...I'm fine. Umm, try the progression now from...um..." Oh God, I can't remember what chords we've covered today. G and H? X, Y, Z?

"C to F?" Alex suggested and I nodded agreement. Good thing one of us hasn't completely lost her wits over a bunch of flowers.

I finished arranging them and tied the ribbon from the wrapping around the stem of the vase; it was too pretty to just throw away. Looking around to find a suitable place to display them, I settled on my dining room table where they'd be seen from every point in the open plan space. Finishing the rest of the lesson without being distracted was not easy and for once I sighed with relief when our time was up and Alex's mother came to fetch her.

As soon as I had seen them off I sent a text message to Ben, thanking him for the beautiful flowers. His reply came not long after, I'm glad you like them.

Another message arrived a few minutes later. I can't wait to see you again.

It's been less than 12 hours, I sent back, debating over a smiley face and deciding against.

This time his answer was almost instantaneous, 12 hours too long. I need a dose of kooky. He added a winking smiley face.

Laughing, I sent three raspberry blowing emoticons and he responded with an LOL. After that I went about my chores with an insanely huge smile on my face.

\---

"Cara?"

"One order of kooky for Mr Cumberbatch." I'd gone all out – a neon pink wig down to my waist, naughty maid's dress and apron, rainbow thigh-high socks and the gaudiest pair of rhinestone stilettos I could find at the local thrift store. I hasten to add that a long coat had covered up the clothes until I got outside the door of his flat, even though I was stifling the whole way; the shoes and wig were added last minute. I would not travel on the tube in that get-up.

"Oh god, you crazy woman! Get in here." He pulled me over the threshold and into his arms, kissing the breath out of me and almost knocking off my wig. "You are certifiably insane," he murmured in between kisses to various parts of my face and neck.

"Don't you like it?" I pretend pouted.

"Are you kidding? I love it. Please tell me you're definitely keeping that dress."

I laughed. "Only if I can keep it here; if anyone in my family found it at my place they would – well, actually, I'm not sure what they'd do, but it wouldn't be good."

I think his throaty growl was a yes; certainly the look in his eyes indicated he wasn't averse to the idea of my outfit staying at his place.

"My feet are killing me though and I've only been wearing these heels for five minutes. I need to take them off." I was a little breathless already from, you know, the whole growl and seductive eye flirting thing; next thing I know he's kneeling down in front of me, one hand on my right calf and the other at my ankle, slowing sliding the shoe off my foot then gently kneading my heel and toes before placing them on the ground. He repeated that with my left foot then massaged both calves, by which time my eyes were closed and I groaned at how good it was. "Forget the astrophysics," I told him, "if you give up acting you could be a masseuse."

There was no reply; I looked down and we locked eyes as his hands slid slowly up from my calves, massaging briefly behind my knees then continuing their upward journey.

"Do you want me to stop?" a low whisper.

I shook my head; he'd reached the top of my socks by now and began peeling them ever so slowly down, his eyes never leaving mine. I was beginning to tremble all over, my heart racing. 

On the down side, the dinner he had been cooking was ruined and we had to order takeout. But on the plus side, I discovered he really, really likes my naughty maid outfit.


	10. One Bad Apple

"I love your hair."

"I'm thinking of getting it all cut off."

"What? No! It's beautiful, so thick and luxuriant. I love running my fingers through it." Mmm, not half as much as I love it. Especially during sex. Oh God, how it feels when his fingers tangle in there and tug at the roots while he's...ahem! Well, yes.

"Are you really thinking of cutting it?" One look at my face told him the answer. "You're just winding me up." I grinned. "Wench!"

We were cuddling on his couch, having been dating now for a whole three weeks. Actually, could I call it a 'whole' three weeks when we only saw each other once or twice a week? Did I have to break it down to the number of dates? Hmm, no, I'll stick with weeks. It wasn't easy when the man was busy filming during the day then often had events to attend at night, while my work was predominantly at night as well as the lessons I gave in the afternoons on weekdays and on Saturday mornings.

He'd managed to sneak in to Bob's a couple more times to watch our gigs, hiding in the alcove that I had finally gotten to see then waiting in his car to drive me home afterwards.

Today we were both free all day and we'd spent it together at his place, reading, drinking coffee and just talking. The man loved his long sentences, I'd discovered, and was also easily sidetracked by his own thoughts in the middle of what he was saying – a trait that seemed vaguely familiar to me - so we ended up discussing all kinds of unexpected topics. It was pretty similar to being amongst my family actually, well except for all the little kisses we snuck in between sentences, the hand holding and sitting on laps. They were definitely only a Ben perk.

Mm, speaking of kisses. I looked up at him and he seemed to understand my thought process – hell, I'd better watch out for that, it could get me in trouble – as he lowered his lips to mine. Oh yes, he is definitely a kissing god.

\---

"When did you decide you wanted to be a singer?"

I shifted my position in his arms a little to get more comfortable. "I don't remember ever making a conscious decision to be a singer, I just was one. I've always loved to sing. As a child I would sing around the house all the time and when we had family get-togethers I sang for my aunts and uncles and cousins. Nonno started teaching me guitar when I was four or five and I love that too."

"You have an incredible voice and wonderful presence when you're on stage. I'm surprised you're still singing in pubs."

"I love singing in pubs."

"I know, but wouldn't you like to make an album or perform to larger audiences?"

"I'm happy doing what I do."

"But don't you want to be more?"

"More than a singer?" Whoa, I don't think I'm comfortable with where this conversation seems to be headed.

"More than a singer in a pub. More successful." Nope, definitely not comfortable.

"I guess that depends on your definition of success." Okay, buster, time to change the subject. "When is your movie premiere? And when are you going to the States?"

"The premiere is next Thursday, the second. I'm going to the US the following week; I do Letterman on the ninth and Late Night with Jimmy Fallon on the tenth then back on the eleventh. Would you like to come?"

"To the States?"

He smiled. "No, to the premiere here in London. As my date." I opened my mouth to remind him we're keeping this private but he continued before I could say it. "Not on my arm in the public eye, I know you don't want that. But there are ways of getting you into the theatre quietly so you can be there to experience it. We wouldn't sit together, I'd be with the other cast members, but we could go to the after-party together."

"Wouldn't there be photographers there too?"

"They do a few at the beginning when everyone arrives then they leave so we can let our hair down a bit."

Holy mother of mercy; me, attend a major movie premiere? Well, okay, that's just watching a movie, that's not difficult. I can do that. But hob-knobbing with movie stars at a party afterwards? That I'm not so sure about. If I got nervous around Ben and started rambling and he's just one person, how bad would I be around a whole room full of famous people? It could well be the end of civilization as we know it.

"Can I...think about it and let you know?"

"Of course."

\---

"Hello beautiful."

"Hi." I was surprised the hand holding my phone was steady.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I've never felt like this before. My hands aren't shaking though, which I think is a good sign."

"Are you all dressed?"

"Yes."

"Send me a photo?"

"No, you have to wait."

"All right. When is your car coming?"

"In about ten minutes."

"You remember the procedure? They'll drop you at the side door and Mark will meet you there to escort you in and show you to your seat. Then afterwards he'll come find you and bring you to the party and I'll meet you there."

"I remember. Ben..."

"Yes?"

"You won't let me get verbal diarrhea will you? If I start rambling in front of your friends, just shove an hors d'oeuvre in my mouth or something."

"I could kiss you, that always works."

"Ben..."

"You'll be fine love. Stop worrying. I have to go, I'm afraid, the car's just about to pull up. I'll see you later; enjoy the movie."

"Thanks. Bye."

Oh sure, mister hotshot movie star, I'll be fine. Stop worrying, the man says. Oh God, please let me be fine. Please don't let me embarrass Ben in front of his friends. Oh Lord, why did I ever agree to this?

I did another mirror check: dress, shoes, hair, make-up, bag. Okay. Breathe Cara, breathe.

\---

When I had agreed to go to the premiere I'd rung Rick's girlfriend Amanda, who works as a salesperson at Harvey Nicholls, asking her to help me find a dress. She had a number of them for me to try on that met my criteria, but although they were all gorgeous, none of them felt quite right.

"I'm sorry Amanda, I feel like I'm being a total pain here."

"No, not all. Don't worry, we'll find something. Let me just think." She went away for a few minutes then came back with another candidate. "Try this. It looks much better on than it does on the hanger." 

She had brought a pencil dress with elbow-length sleeves, split hem and low cut back in a gorgeous rich red the colour of a good merlot; when I tried it on it was like wearing a second skin and I felt elegant and beautiful, even a little sexy. I hardly believed it was me in the mirror. "You could put your hair up in its usual ponytail and wear your black heels," she suggested, "it would be simple and classy."

It was absolutely perfect. When I left the store I was floating on cloud nine.

\---

Everything went smoothly and just as Ben had said it would; I was met at the right place and shown to my seat in the Empire Theatre. Having caught a glimpse of the huge crowds outside I was glad I didn't have to find my way through that throng and wondered how Ben did it with all the photo calls and interviews and being asked the same questions millions of times.

JJ Abrams introduced the movie and called other producers and writers to the stage before the cast got up there as well and I tried not to look like I was clapping Ben the loudest. I couldn't wait to see him in the movie and wondered if I was right about his villain's identity. We put our 3D glasses on and I sat back to enjoy the show.

"I can save her." The second I heard that deep voice I sat up straighter in my seat. Ben! When he came on camera a few seconds later I gasped and as it moved in to close up on his face I looked at those gorgeous features I'd become so familiar with, feeling a tingling start deep inside me. Finally we got a good look at him aboard the Enterprise and my insides did all sorts of gooey things; holy moly, he looked so darned buff! Mental note to self; feed him up as soon as he's finished filming Sherlock. Finally Ben said the words we'd all been waiting to hear: "My name is Khan," and I did a fist pump to myself. Called it! I sat spellbound as the action unfolded. The big fight scene between Khan and Spock towards the end had me on the edge of my seat as I silently urged Ben...I mean Khan, on. Is it wrong to root for the bad guy? Nah; look how popular Loki is after Thor and The Avengers.

There were whoops and cheers as well as applause from the audience after the movie finished and I caught a brief glimpse of Ben smiling with his cast-mates before he was lost in the crowd. I waited in my seat for Mark to fetch me and once again was whisked off in a car, this time to Aqua where the party was being held. Once admitted I went straight to the ladies room; I could hear people saying that the stars were all arriving and I wanted to freshen up.

I'd fixed my lipstick and was in the cubicle when I heard two women come in, one with an English accent and one American. They sounded vaguely familiar.

"Ooph! I'm glad that hoopla is over; I'm dying for a drink!"

"Me too. Did the guys get here yet?"

"I saw Chris and Zach arrive and Simon said Karl and Benedict are here already."

"Did you hear Benedict is bringing his girlfriend?"

"I didn't know he was seeing someone."

"It's fairly recent I think. She's a singer apparently; I overheard him raving about her to Chris."

"Well, good for him. Right, I'm ready; shall we?"

They left and I just stayed sitting there, my thoughts in turmoil. Wait, what? Girlfriend?


	11. It's Life Jim, But Not As We Know It

"What can I get for you?"

"Tequila shot please." Really Cara? Is that wise? Hey, I can go on to soda water afterwards but right now I need something with bite. Something that will hopefully stop me talking to myself. And answering.

"Coming right up."

The tequila had gone down very smoothly and I was about to order a soda and lime when a smooth American voice beside me said, "Now look at you; all those curves and me with no brakes." I blinked for a minute, rather stunned to have someone hitting on me at this particular party, then turned and looked up into the piercing blue eyes of none other than Captain James Tiberius Kirk himself. Oh good golly Miss Molly, another Hollywood heartthrob. I cringed internally as I opened my mouth to reply, worried at what was about to come out.

"Oh, look at you, so cheesy and me with no pizza." Holy heck, where did that come from?

He looked surprised for a few seconds then he smiled. "There's something wrong with my eyes, I can't seem to take them off you."

Quick as a flash I retorted, "I'm having trouble with mine too; I can't see you getting anywhere." What the hell? Is it the tequila? I feel like Raj from Big Bang Theory.

He laughed and threw out one more. "Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?"

I immediately countered with, "Go ahead, I need to practice shooting at a moving target."

He put his hand over his heart, saying "Ouch!" and we both cracked up laughing then he held his hand out to me. "Chris Pine."

"Cara de Luca." I put my hand in his and he raised it to his mouth and kissed my fingers. I'm pretty sure he stole that move from someone else. "Cara?" he asked, looking surprised. "As in Benedict's friend Cara?"

"Guilty as charged."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Cara, I've heard a lot of good things about you."

"I wish I could say the same Chris." Bloody hell, I'm on a roll! Maybe I should have another shot after all.

Now he had a broad grin on his face. "No wonder Benedict warned me to be on my best behaviour around you."

"He did?"

"I know you'll find it difficult to believe Cara, but I can be a bit of a womaniser." 

I grinned back. "No, really? With cheesy pick up lines like you were using? You mean there are actually women out there gullible enough to fall for those?"

"Thankfully, yes."

We both laughed again then he tucked my hand around his arm, saying, "Come on, Benedict's over this way and I know he's been looking for you." As we weaved our way through the crowds, Chris frequently saying hello or nodding to people as we passed, we chatted freely and I couldn't believe how at ease I felt in his company.

When Ben saw us approaching he excused himself from the people he was talking to and met us halfway. I felt a warm glow spreading from my toes up through my body; he had called me his girlfriend to his friends and now the way he was looking at me was causing all kinds of fluttering in my stomach. Unsure how I should greet him in front of Chris and anyone who might be watching, I was surprised when he put a hand to my waist and lowered his head to kiss me; although it was quick, it was intense enough to leave me a little breathless.

"You look exquisite," he murmured into my ear, making me blush a little.

"Thank you. You look very handsome yourself." Which he did; the dark three-piece suit he wore fitted his slender body to perfection. The Sherlock curls had all disappeared, straightened and smoothed back from his face, which only highlighted his cheekbones even more.

"How on earth did you find her?" As he turned towards Chris, to whom the question was directed, his arm slid around my waist and pulled me close to his side.

I caught Chris's eye and replied before he did, "We met at the bar; he recognised my name." It was a very brief version of the truth; Chris gave me a quick half smile in acknowledgement and agreed then offered to fetch drinks for us all.

"You're not wearing your geeky specs," Ben observed with a smile once Chris had gone. "Are we all a slight blur?"

"I've got contacts in," I surprised him. "Disposable ones; I'm just trying them out."

"You look beautiful." His long fingers smoothed back a piece of hair that had fallen over my face, leaving a tingling trail on my skin. "But then, you always look beautiful."

I melted towards him, looking into the warmth of his eyes as I told him softly, "It's not fair to say things like that in the middle of a roomful of people Mr Cumberbatch but I will remember to thank you properly later." I pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth but gave him a look that told him exactly what I had in mind and heard him take in a sharp breath just as two people approached: Zachary and Zoe.

The rest of the night passed in a blur; I met so many celebrities, some involved with the film and some not, and stunned myself by being completely at ease and able to joke along just as I had with Chris. Maybe it's only Ben who makes me nervous. Just then I caught his eye; the look I saw there stilled my heart momentarily. Yup, it's him all right.

When I met Alice Eve I was interested to hear that she had known Ben since starring in a movie with him in 2006. "Really, which one?"

"Starter for 10," she replied. "We were part of a team taking part in the University Challenge TV quiz show in the eighties."

"Oh my God! I've seen that!" I turned to Ben. "You were in that movie? Who did you play?"

He laughed and grimaced. "Sure, everybody remembers James McAvoy's character but no-one remembers poor me."

"Stop fishing for sympathy and answer the question Cumberbatch." Everybody laughed when I teased him.

"My character was the team captain; a bit of an insufferable dork really." I started giggling; I couldn't help it. I vaguely remembered that character and Ben was right, he was insufferable. I clapped my hand over my mouth but by now Alice was giggling with me. Ben looked at us with a frown but I could see the edges of his mouth twitching and it wasn't long before he was laughing too. "I can see I'm going to have to keep you away from Alice," he told me in a mock stern tone, "You are a bad influence." Which of course only made Alice and I giggle more.

\---

"You are coming in aren't you?" I asked Ben when the car pulled up outside my flat around two in the morning.

While I unlocked the door his arms slid around me from behind and he pressed his lips to my neck. We walked in like that until he turned me in his arms and I had time only to see his eyes darkening as his face drew closer until our mouths met in a deep toe-curling kiss, my hands coming up to graze his cheeks, my head reeling. He tasted faintly of whiskey and coffee and I nibbled gently on his lower lip, a shiver running through me when he gave a soft moan in response. His fingers traced over my back and the heat of his touch on my bare flesh sent lightning bolts of desire through me. "God you were amazing tonight," he murmured when our lips parted, both of us breathing a little heavier. "So confident and sassy, just like you are on stage."

"You...on that screen...so bad arse..." I was peppering his jaw with kisses as I began easing his jacket off his shoulders. "And your eyes...God, Ben...your eyes almost killed me." I began unbuttoning his waistcoat as his lips crashed into mine again and I softly exhaled into his mouth, an incoherent sound escaping me that I couldn't have put a name to if I tried. He deepened the kiss and the flame burning inside me switched from high to intense. I sure hope this dress is flame-retardant; I rather like it. That was the last thought I remember before he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bedroom. After that there was nothing but touch and taste and feel and sound...but definitely no thinking.

"Good morning sleepy head."

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry love, I have to go. I have interviews."

"Okay."

"You're at Bob's tonight?"

"Mm hmm."

"I'll see you then."

"Okay, good night." I heard a soft chuckle and felt warm lips pressed to my cheek before the door closed and I snuggled farther under the covers, letting sleep overtake me again.

\---

It was déjà vu.

Just as we were half way through our last set, I saw him come in and stand at the back - there were no seats left anywhere. But this time he wasn't alone; he had brought Chris, Zach and Alice with him and it was inevitable that even though the lighting is pretty dim, they turned heads. I wondered why my boyfriend - yes, I used the word boyfriend - had brought his movie star friends in to my pub. Okay, okay, not technically mine, but you know what I mean.

I studiously avoided looking at them as we went through the last half dozen songs and tried not to think about the very last one on our playlist, wondering if they would think I was deliberately singing it for them. Not that I could be of course, I had no idea they were going to show up and anyway I hadn't even been the one to choose that song to end the show. It was just an amazing coincidence.

When we reached it and I sang Pink's lyrics about a parallel universe and picking a star I grinned inside.

Just beam me up

Give me a minute; I don't know what I'd say in it

I'd probably just stare, happy just to be there, holding your face

Beam me up

Let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter

I think a minute's enough

Beam me up

Beam me up

Beam me up

Could you beam me up


	12. Almost Coitus Interruptis

"Should I be concerned about this apparent fetish you have for bums?"

"It's hardly a fetish; I don't think it possesses magical qualities or get sexual gratification from looking at it...well, not to an abnormal degree anyway." He made a strange noise. "And besides, it's not all bums, just yours." I grinned to myself and moved from where I had been perched over his legs admiring his gluteus maximus to laying down beside him. "Although, come to think of it..."

"Mmm?" He rolled over on to his side, one hand propping his head while the other came to rest on my hip.

"There are some very nice bums out there - Hardy, McAvoy, Hiddleston, Fassbender..." He made a sort of choking snort, which caused me to giggle - I'd deliberately picked people I knew he'd worked with. And who did actually have nice bums, of course. Not that I was looking.

"Are you winding me up Miss de Luca?" His head came so close to mine that I felt his warm breath tickle my lips while his hand meandered slowly up from my hip over the plane of my stomach to settle on my right breast, where it did not remain idle.

"That all depends," I breathed, looking at him through my lashes and squirming a little at what that hand was doing. "Is it working?"

In answer he moved his head the fraction of an inch needed to lower his lips to mine in a kiss that quickly went from soft and sweet to hot and demanding. A small whimper escaped me when his hand left its spot to pull me closer until I was tucked underneath him, so to make up for it he replaced his hand with his mouth and I gasped and arched my back.

"Oh God! Remind me to bring up bums again..."

"Teasing wench." His mouth came back to mine hungrily as I tangled my fingers in his hair.

"I like 'wench' by the way." I said when he lifted his head again.

"Hmm..." His mouth fastened on my other breast, his hand now moving lower down my body. When his lips began to follow the path of his hand I heard him muttering "Wenchie, wench, wench," and I giggled. He lifted his head and looked up at me, lids hooded with desire but a half smile on his face. "Stop laughing wench!" and I burst out in renewed chortles. He silenced me with a kiss but by now he was laughing too.

Knock, Knock!

"Are you expecting someone?"

"At nine o'clock on a Sunday night?"

"Do you want to answer it?"

I gave him my very best 'are you kidding?' look. "Hopefully they'll go away when I don't answer. Unless it's one of my - "

"Cara?" A male voice sounded from my lounge room.

"Shit!" I whispered, frozen with shock for a minute before I sprang into action, pushing Ben off me and scrambling out of bed to search for clothing. "It's my brother!"

"I'll be right out," I called to Marco, still looking frantically for something to put on. I found my abandoned t-shirt and pulled that over my head, looking around for my panties.

"Should I meet him?" Ben asked, also whispering.

"No! God, no!"

"Why not?"

"Shit! What the hell did you do with my panties Cumberbatch?" I was getting a little worried I wouldn't find them. "Because," I began answering his question as I threw the various pieces of discarded clothing in a haphazard fashion, "I am an Italian Catholic and while my brothers may be aware on a certain subconscious level that I am no longer chaste and virtuous, I don't need them to come face-to-face with a naked man in my bed. Ah-hah!" I quickly pulled on the errant underwear, smoothed my hair as best I could and gave Ben a quick kiss on the mouth. "Stay here and don't make any noise." Then I went out to the lounge, careful not to let my brother get a look into my room as I firmly closed the door.

"What are you doing here Marco? And how many times have I told you not to let yourself in with my spare key?"

He just shrugged, as I knew he would; that was Marco. I sighed.

"What was that talking I heard?"

"Talking?"

"From your room, just now."

Holy shit. Think quickly, think quickly. "That was...the TV." Phew!

"How long have you had a TV in your bedroom?"

"I've had a TV in my bedroom for...as long as...I've had it. What difference does it make? Am I not allowed to buy myself a television for the pleasure of nighttime viewing?"

"Were you in bed already? It's only nine o'clock."

"I was...just about to have a shower. What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? I didn't realize I needed your approval. Dammi una pausa, Marco!" (Give me a break!)

"Okay, okay, scusa, scusa." He put his hands up in front of him.

"Why are you here?" I repeated.

"I need some advice about Antonella."

I groaned internally. Marco and Antonella had had an on-again, off-again relationship for almost two years and he'd come to me for advice a number of times. The problem was that he didn't learn from his mistakes and they kept breaking up and getting back together. Sometimes I wondered why she kept taking him back, but hell, he is my brother and I love him.

He told me that their anniversary was approaching and he wanted to do something special so he had planned what he called the most romantic evening ever. It involved picking her up with a bouquet of flowers, taking her out to dinner at a fancy restaurant where he'd arranged for the violinist to serenade them at the table and a bottle of expensive champagne to be chilled and waiting, then giving her a beautiful diamond necklace. It all sounded great in theory except that he'd done something similar before and it had failed to win Antonella over - she didn't like showy expressions of affection, she wanted simple and sincere; something Marco was unfortunately not good at.

"Marco, listen carefully. That is not the way to win her heart, trust me. If you want to give her flowers, ask for some wildflowers from Mrs Albertini's garden, don't give her hothouse ones. Forget the expensive dinner at a fancy restaurant and cook her dinner yourself - she will appreciate the effort so much more. And don't for God's sake make her do the dishes afterwards!" I knew my brother; he didn't do domestication well. "A violin playing right next to your table just means you can't hear each other talk, have some soft music playing in the background - her favourite music, preferably, if you know what it is, and talk about things that interest her. Light candles, tons of candles, and have them all around the room. Pull her chair out for her, place her napkin in her lap - you do know what a napkin is, don't you?"

He gave me a withering look. "Sì, io non sono stupido!" (Yes, I'm not stupid!)

The little grunt I gave earned me another look but I ignored it.

"And this will work, si? She will like this?"

"I guarantee it."

"Grazie sorellina." (Thank you little sister)

"Prego. Now get out of here so I can get back to..." Oh God, what excuse had I used?

"The shower. I know." I walked him to the door, we hugged and kissed and he thanked me again before leaving.

A thought occurred to me and I quickly opened my door again. "Marco! Give me back my spare key!" Once I had that I deadlocked the door to make sure there would be no more unwelcome visitors.

I was grumbling about brothers under my breath as I went back into the bedroom, only to find Ben up and putting on his clothes. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened, I just want to talk to you about something."

Uh oh. Serious face. Requires clothing. This can't be good. Can it?

"Should I get dressed too? I should get dressed too. Or at least put my jeans back on so I'm not just in a t-shirt and panties." I looked around the room for my clothes. "Then again, maybe I should put a bra on. It is after nine and I have taken it off for the night, so putting it back on kind of breaks the unspoken girl rule of 'I've taken my bra off for the day and that's it' but I guess -"

"Cara."

I took a deep breath. "Benedict."

He put his hands on my shoulders and I looked into his face: still serious. Shit. "Okay, two things - one, you're rambling nervously and two, you just called me Benedict. What's going on?"

"I have no idea."

"What?"

"I don't know what's going on, you're the one who said we need to talk. You look serious so I called you Benedict because that's a more serious name than Ben and I'm rambling because I'm nervous and I'm nervous because you look serious and you're getting dressed and I have no idea what's happening but I'm really nervous." It all came out in one big long breath, so I had to gasp for air at the end of my verbal spew. "And now I've said that about four times so for God's sake shut me up."

His hands slid down to take both of mine in his and he pulled me to the bed so we sat down on the edge. He didn't let go of my hands. "I'm sorry I've been tied up for most of this weekend; I wanted to say this sooner, I just haven't had the chance."

"Okay." Now he looked nervous. Oh Lord.

"Cara, I know we've only known each other for a month and that's not a long time, but it has been the most...amazing month. You're an incredible woman and I love every second I spend with you; you are warm and caring, funny and bright and yes, somewhat kooky." His smile warmed me all over. "But I've come to realize I needed some kooky." He took a deep breath. "I'd like you to be my girlfriend; I want to introduce you to my parents and I'd like to meet your family. Would you...how do you..."

I kissed him softly, a mere whisper of a kiss where my lips touched his as gently as a butterfly alights upon a flower. "Yes," I breathed; it was all I was capable of, but it was enough.


	13. Yankees or Mets?

"Is there anything you'd like me to bring you back from New York?" Ben's strong, warm arms pulled me close, enveloping me in his familiar woodsy scent; I closed my eyes momentarily and just breathed him in.

I didn't have to think much about that question. "How long is your flight?"

"Seven hours." He looked at me quizzically when I frowned. "Why? What have you got in mind?"

"I've always wanted to try an American hot dog," I said, "Or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but they wouldn't stay fresh after that long a flight, so don't worry about it."

"Cara, love...God, you're..."

"I've never known you at a loss for words before." I smiled into his eyes. "It's pretty darn cute, by the way, just so you know." I reached up and pressed my lips to his. And now he's blushing; oh my God he's adorable! "Ooh, I know! Would you see if you can get me a baseball cap - either the Yankees or the Mets, it doesn't matter; I like both teams."

"A baseball cap?" He sounded rather incredulous.

"Only if you get the chance, don't worry if you can't; you're going there for work, after all. You're going to be pretty busy with the premiere and interviews." Ben appearing at the New York premiere of Into Darkness had been a recent addition to his US trip; he'd originally thought he wouldn't make it because of filming the third season of Sherlock, but they were now scheduled to wrap the next day and he would fly to New York the day after. Well, time differences did something to help too, I just can't remember how; I've never been much good at adding hours on or taking them off. Whatever.

"That's really all you want?"

"Yes. No! See if you can persuade the others to come back here for an after-after-party; that would be loads of fun." He knew I was joking, but I had really enjoyed their company both at the after premiere party and the next night when they'd come to Bob's pub. We'd all gone on to Ben's flat after the gig; I'd been teased a lot, naturally, about the Pink song we ended with but they were also very flattering about my singing. There'd been plenty of whiskey, anecdotes, teasing and laughter and Alice and I had arranged to meet up next time she was back home for a few days.

"I'm going to miss you at the after-party this time around."

"Mmm, well just you behave yourself." I snuck another kiss. "Don't go falling in love with some blond, stick-thin New York model with legs up to her navel," I teased him. Hmm, maybe I was a little serious.

His arms tightened around me as he spoke in a low, husky voice. "Now why would I even look at someone else when I have the most adorable woman on the planet in my arms already?"

Awww. Goo; I am now a puddle of goo. He deserved the passionate kiss I gave him, didn't he? Yes, yes he did. Plus what came afterwards of course, if you'll pardon the pun.

\---

We saw each other briefly the next day once he'd wrapped filming before I sent him home to get a few hours sleep; he had an early morning flight and a number of other interviews as well as Letterman lined up before the premiere. I received texts a number of times through his day and he sent a selfie he'd taken with Chris, Zach, Zoe and Alice all waving hello from somewhere on the red carpet. The one I sent back of me making a goofy face apparently made him laugh so hard just as a reporter was about to ask him some questions that she'd enquired what he was laughing at and he had to make up an excuse on the spot. Oops, my bad!

On Friday I was lunching with two friends, my thoughts distracted by what I was going to wear for the gig that night, when my attention was caught by something Annie said.

"What did you just say?" I asked her.

"I asked if you saw Chris Pine and Benedict Cumberbatch on Graham Norton last week. But I was really asking Maggie cos I know you would've had a gig and not seen it. Or did you record it?"

I was a bit flabbergasted, to be honest; Ben hadn't told me he was going to be on the talk show. "No, I...I didn't know they were on. Was it good?" Just wait till that man got back!

"It was funny; they talked about the neutron cream. Then they did this sweet thing finding people who had come a long way to be in the audience and the two of them would run up into the crowd and hug the fan."

Well, hell. YouTube was going to be my first port of call when I got home.

"Do you want to come to see the movie with us tomorrow Cara?" Maggie asked me.

As I was still preoccupied with thoughts of Ben, I answered without thinking. "I saw it last week."

"You mean yesterday?"

"Sorry?"

"You mean you saw it yesterday. It only opened yesterday, so you couldn't have seen it last week." Annie pointed out.

"Well, unless you were at the premiere of course!" Maggie said and they both laughed at that idea.

"Of course I was at the premiere," I smiled. "I saw the movie then went to the after-party and met the stars - all the actors and JJ Abrams and Karen Gillan from Doctor Who and...oh, Stephen Fry was there...um, Hugh Bonneville. It was amazing. Simon Pegg is an absolute hoot and Zach Quinto is a real sweetheart."

"Oh right," Annie winked at me. "And I suppose Chris Pine flirted with you all night and Benedict Cumberbatch gave you a ride home?"

"Well, Chris did try to pick me up at the bar but he didn't flirt all night. And yes, Benedict gave me a ride home."

The two of them spluttered with laughter, clutching their sides and patting my hand as it sat on my lap. "God, Cara, you are such a kook," Maggie told me. I just smiled again as they chuckled at what they considered my flight of fantasy. "Just imagine it though," she added with a wistful expression, "How much fun would that be?"

"Tons of fun," I said and they agreed. We all sighed, though I'm pretty sure my sigh was for a completely different reason to theirs.

"And who does our Benny play in the movie? Were you right about him being Khan?"

"Spoiler alert!" I said po-faced. "Wouldn't you rather find out for yourselves when you see it?" They groaned but said I was right, so I kept that gem to myself.

An hour later, after we'd said our farewells and I was heading home, a text arrived from Ben: Just heading to Late Night. Missing you. As I happened to be standing in a bus shelter that had an Into Darkness poster of him up on the side, I posed clinging to John Harrison's chest and sent the photo with a reply: Not missing you at all. His response was quick: Who's that good-looking guy? I answered: Don't know but wish he could be my boyfriend. The next minute he sent a selfie doing the goofiest face I'd ever seen; I sat grinning all the way home on the bus.

\---

After giving my morning lessons the next day I visited Tony and Maria and my new nephew Matteo. He was the sweetest little cherub, so placid and happy and I cooed over him as I held him in my arms.

"You should be thinking about having your own, Cara," my sister-in-law told me, putting her feet up to rest on the nearby ottoman while my brother took their other two children out to give her a break for a while.

"Don't you start," I told her with a quick withering look, "You're as bad as nonna."

"You're almost thirty-two," she kindly pointed out, "You can't wait forever." I didn't say anything and there was a brief pause. "Nonna says you've met someone."

I should have known; since when did this family ever not interfere in each other's lives? Well, in my life specifically. Why couldn't they focus on Marco and his love life instead of mine?

"Well? É vero?" (Is it true?)

I rolled my eyes to Matteo, who seemed to give me a gummy smile in reply. "Si."

"And?"

"And nothing Maria, we've only known each other a short time; it's far too soon for you and nonna to be planning my wedding and handing down baby clothes!" The exasperation I felt must have been evident in my voice because she gave me a careful look, but that didn't stop her next question.

"Are you bringing him to your birthday dinner?"

Oh God, I'd forgotten about my birthday. It was only a couple of weeks away and as usual a big family dinner was planned; nonna and nonno had always made our birthdays a big celebration, ever since we were kids. I was sorely tempted to say 'to hell with it' and call the whole thing off, but I couldn't possibly disappoint my grandparents like that.

I groaned. "I don't know yet. He may have to work." I had no idea what Ben's schedule was like and if he was even free on my birthday.

"Have you asked him?" Seriously, Maria was starting to get on my nerves. Admittedly, Ben had said he wants to meet my family, I'm just not sure meeting the whole lot of them all in one go is the best idea; they can be rather overwhelming, to put it mildly. Then again, perhaps it would be like ripping off a bandaid...

"No," I sighed and then to forestall the question I knew would come next, "But I will."

\---

"Hello my lovely lady, my kooky queen."

I laughed down the phone at Ben's greeting. "Hello my goofy guy, welcome back to Blighty. You're sounding very chipper."

"I feel chipper. When can I see you?"

"Oh, so being loved and adored by thousands of fans over the past few days hasn't been enough?" I teased.

"Not nearly enough," he replied and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Are you at home now?"

"Yes I am; I think I can squeeze you in but you'll have to leave when my new boyfriend gets here."

"New boyfriend?"

"The good looking one in the picture I sent you yesterday, remember?" Just then there was a knock at the door. "Can you hold for a minute? There's someone at the door."

"If it's that new boyfriend of yours send him away; I called you first." I laughed and put the phone down to answer the door.

"Hello beautiful."

"Ben!"

"You were expecting someone else?"

Laughing again, I pulled him inside, kicking the door closed as I welcomed him back with a kiss.


	14. When You Don't Know What to Say

"Mmm, I missed your lips," I told Ben when he released me from our kiss, which made said lips quirk up in such a cute little half-smile I was tempted to head back in for seconds.

"What about that new boyfriend of yours?" he teased, the half-smile threatening to turn into a full-on grin. I gave a melodramatic sigh.

"Turns out he's a terrorist and sure, one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter, but really..." He stole the rest of my sentence away with the touch of those yummy lips to mine. Not that I minded. In fact, I moved my arms from around his middle up to his shoulders to pull him closer, regretting the fact I hadn't put my heels on yet so am a good seven inches shorter.

"You've been watching my interviews."

"I have indeed Mr Cumberbatch."

"How did I do?"

"'Charming, debonair and witty.'"

He quirked an eyebrow at me and gave a slightly goofy look of scepticism. "That sounds like a quote from somewhere; what did you think?"

Busted. "I thought you were sweet and funny and handled them well. I was proud of you."

"Thank you." The compliment earned me another kiss. "I have something for you." He let me go and turned to pick up a large brown paper bag I hadn't even noticed he'd brought with him. I took his empty hand and pulled him toward the couch, sitting beside him as he smiled at me and delved into the bag to produce a navy baseball cap with the letters NY embroidered in white on the front.

"A Yankees cap! Thank you so much, I love it." I put it on straight away, pulling my ponytail through at the back and sitting it low over my forehead. "How does it look? No, wait!" Racing over to where my handbag sat on the kitchen counter I dug around for a bit, took off my regular glasses and put my sunnies on then turned to show him. "Am I the cool kid on the block or what?" He returned my wide grin as I sauntered jauntily over to him and plopped myself on his lap, putting my arms around his neck. "Thank you for remembering."

"You're welcome," he murmured, kissing me again. "I have something else too." This time he pulled a shirt out of the bag and I gasped; it was the iconic white and navy stripe Yankees home game jersey. "I wasn't sure if you'd like it..."

"Are you kidding me?" I interrupted him, wobbling and almost falling off his lap in my excitement as I take it in my hands.

"I had no idea you're such a baseball fan," he grinned again at my enthusiasm.

"Nonno loves it; I used to watch it on TV with him every week from ever since I can remember." I held the jersey up against myself to judge the sizing then stood and removed the cap, sunnies and my t-shirt before slipping it over my head. It's a good fit though fairly long on me, coming down to the tops of my thighs. The fabric feels crisp and new on my skin, which I knew would soften with a couple of washes.

"There's one more gift," Ben said softly and I looked at him.

"Ben, no, you've given me two wonderful gifts already. Save it and give it to your parents."

"Can't," he replied with a mysterious smile, "it was tailor-made just for you."

In a pair of black trousers and deep green polo shirt that somehow accentuated his eyes, he looked good enough to eat, but it was the sweet expression on his face that made me melt. I could see that giving me gifts was bringing him real pleasure and although I was already a little embarrassed at how generous he had been, there is no way I could refuse. I rescued my specs and sat beside him as he placed in my hands a zippered carrycase, rectangular in shape, smaller than a breadbox but larger than an iPad mini.

"I was promised this would be packaged in such a way to reach you in its perfect original condition." The twinkle in his eye told me it was something good.

"Okay, now I'm intrigued," I tried without success to get an inkling of the contents from his face. "Give me a clue." He just chuckled and shook his head. "Come on Cumbers, just a teensy-weensy hint?"

"You spent too much time talking to Simon." Simon Pegg had called him Cumbers Bumbers at the party - and in a couple of interviews. Although his laugh lines crinkled enough to tell me he was amused, he still wouldn't give any clues about the package's contents.

I sighed and unzipped it, opening it up to find whatever it was inside was surrounded by more layers of protective wrapping. As I put the carrycase to one side I noticed it was insulated, like those containers used to keep food hot or cold. Oh! No, it couldn't be...surely. I glanced at Ben again, to see him waiting with as much anticipation as I was. And there's that weird twinge again in my chest; what the hell is that? I only ever get it when Ben's around. No, that's not quite true - sometimes when I'm thinking about him a lot too. Which happens fairly regularly, if I'm being honest. He made a small noise and my attention returned to the mysterious oblong in my lap.

The next layer of wrapping was kind of like a zip-lock bag with all the air sucked out of it so that it's moulded closely to the shape of the contents and I could see that inside it was something enclosed in greaseproof paper. And that paper carried the name of the store where it was presumably purchased, which was Katz's Delicatessen, New York. It looked more and more like he had brought me...

I opened the zip-lock bag and the smells that hit my nostrils were nothing short of heavenly. Onions I recognized, meat and bread also, the distinctive spice of mustard and there was another in there I didn't know. A sour, salty odour reminiscent of some of the food stalls at the weekend street markets. By the time I began to peel back that last layer I was absolutely sure I knew what lay within and was also completely and utterly overwhelmed at the trouble he had gone to to bring me this gift.

"Ben..." I looked down at a genuine, son-of-a-gun, mouth-wateringly-fresh and deliciously aromatic New York hot dog.

"Take a bite."

I couldn't. I couldn't speak and I definitely couldn't swallow; there was a lump in my throat almost large enough to preclude breathing as well. The twinge around my heart was stronger than it's ever been and I was almost ready to ask him to call an ambulance when, in a moment of clarity that came from out of nowhere and completely blindsided me, I finally recognised it for what it was.

I'm in love with him.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

"Cara?"

Blinking, I brought my attention back. "Yes?"

He looked puzzled and concerned; his brows were drawn down and he was tense around the mouth. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes fine, I..." He looked different. Should he look different? Does knowledge that you love someone do that; change his or her physical appearance? Is this what they call looking through rose-tinted glasses? I can't see any rosy hues. This is confusing. "I um..." I looked down.

"Don't you like it? I thought -"

"I do like it," I hastened to interrupt, anxious that he didn't get the wrong idea and finding my voice to prevent that. "Ben, it is without doubt...one of the sweetest and most thoughtful gifts I've ever received." I pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "Thank you." The concerned look left his eyes and he smiled warmly. "Share it with me?" I quickly sorted plates for both of us and cut the hot dog in half. When I finally took my first bite I closed my eyes to savour the flavours rolling around on my tongue. "Oh God," I spoke through a mouthful of food, "this is so good."

\---

I went to change for our gig, putting on low-slung faded jeans with an ornate buckle on the belt, black singlet top and a pair of tan Durango cowgirl boots. As I walked back into the lounge I was plaiting my hair and Ben gave me a wolf whistle from where he was standing in front of the tall windows overlooking the garden.

"Let me guess," the cheeky grin on his face warned me whatever he was about to say wouldn't be serious, "it's Broadway show tunes tonight?"

"Don't talk out loud," I retorted, putting my hands on my hips as I mocked him. "You lower the IQ of the whole street." When his whole body shook with laughter it tugged at my heart so strongly I caught my breath. God I love this man.

"Saucy wench," he murmured, stepping forward and pulling me into his arms, whispering small kisses down my throat and neck that sent shivers skittering down my spine. I clung to him when his warm mouth reached my collarbone and my knees weakened, closing my eyes and listening to the pounding of my heart.

"Ben, I have to...finish getting ready." I'd much rather stay here doing this though - maybe the guys can do without me for one night?

He stopped and gave an exaggerated sigh, resting his forehead against mine. "Can't they do without you for one night?"

Okay, that's spooky. Either that or there's an echo. No, I didn't say it out loud, so no echo. Echo, echo. Ha. Oh crap, thoughts are rambling...pull it together Cara.

"I'll suggest it to them for next time you come back from a trip," I promised, though we both knew we were only joking; after all, a band without its lead singer is like a play without the lead actor. I kissed the tip of his nose before heading back to my bedroom to quickly do my makeup and grab my denim jacket and a straw hat that has definitely seen better days.

"Can I come along tonight?" Ben called out just as I was about to head back out there.

"Of course you can but I thought you weren't really in to country music." I picked my keys up from the kitchen counter and looked at him.

"No, but I'm totally into watching you perform."

Oh Lord, wipe that sexy smile off your face, Cumbers, or we'll never make it out of this flat. Take a deep breath, Cara, you have to go to work.

He dropped me off at Bob's then went home to shower and change, promising he'd be in the little alcove later. The gig went well; we played mostly recent stuff but added in plenty of older songs to mix it up. I had a section I dedicated to the women in the audience; a few Shania Twain hits and a couple of Reba McEntire songs; they were a big hit and got everyone stomping their feet and singing along. We ended the night with some slower tunes, our last song being the beautiful I Need You, a hit for Tim McGraw and Faith Hill.

"I've heard you sing pop, rock, R&B, jazz and now country and you stun me every time." We were walking in my front door as Ben spoke. "Just when I think your voice is made for one style, you prove me wrong by sounding incredible in a completely different genre. You're amazing." His arms wrapped around my middle from where he stood behind me, his deep mellifluous voice right beside my ear. "I'm sure if the right people heard you, you could go a long way in the music industry."

I was still on the high that performing gives me so didn't get as antsy as I usually do when someone tries to push me to be 'more successful'. "Can we...talk about it another time?" I asked, leaning back against his solid warmth.

"Of course love."

The next morning we were sharing the Sunday paper and a spinach and mushroom omelette when Ben's phone rang. He checked caller ID then answered it.

"Hi mum." He looked up at me as he listened. "Today? Um, just a minute, I'll ask." He put the phone to his chest. "Do you have any plans for today?" I shook my head warily. "We're invited to lunch with my parents."

Oh crumbs.

He waited for me to answer, the filtered sun coming through the window behind him shining on the back of his dark hair and casting his face into shadow as it was turned towards me, making it difficult to make out his expression. My face, however, must have shown quite clearly what I was thinking and feeling because he leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, murmuring, "It'll be fine, I promise. They won't bite."

I slowly nodded my acquiescence and listened as he confirmed a time before ringing off. Then he took my hand and squeezed it, which did absolutely nothing to calm my rapidly escalating nerves.

Dear Lord, I do not know what will happen to me today. I only know that nothing will happen that was not foreseen by You, and directed to my greater good from all eternity. I adore Your holy and unfathomable plans, and submit to them with all my heart for love of You, the Pope, and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Amen.


	15. Brandysnaps and Buttercake

"What about this one?"

"You look beautiful."

"That's what you said about the last four."

"Because you look beautiful in all of them."

"You're not helping, Cuddlysnatch!"

His eyes sparkled with humour and his laugh lines deepened to crevasses as he chuckled and opened his arms out in invitation. I had been trying on outfits to wear to meet his parents for the last half hour while he sat on the edge of the bed; when I walked into the circle of his embrace those arms closed around my waist and his head nuzzled into my stomach. I put my hands in his hair, which I'd persuaded him to leave without product so his curls rioted wildly everywhere; he was getting it cut first thing tomorrow so I had to make the most of it now.

"It doesn't matter what you wear love, you can't help being gorgeous in anything - or nothing." I smacked him playfully, making him laugh again. "My parents are not going to care whether you're dressed in haute couture or op shop bargains; they want to meet you, not your clothes."

I sighed, partly because he was right (dammit!) and partly because men just don't get it; a woman's outfit is her armour and her shield, it gives her the strength and confidence to meet the enemy - or in this case, the parents - feeling intrepid, self-assured and fearless. Was I feeling any of those things? Not even close.

"Ben, please," I pleaded, holding his face in my hands and beseeching him with my eyes. "I need help."

He didn't hesitate, he gave me a soft smile and said, "I love you in red."

I returned to my wardrobe, hunting out a wine red skater dress with scoop neckline and short sleeves. Its soft folds fell to just above my knees and I added a narrow belt and low heels. Oh thank God - this is it, my battledress. Nooo, why did I have to use that phrase? Now I'm thinking about The Woman and her battledress and Ben's remark about...Oh heck, I can't show up at his parents' place with impure thoughts in my head...

"Perfect," was Ben's verdict when I showed my outfit to him. I kissed him and gathered the discarded outfits from the bed to return them to drawers and closet.

As I was brushing my hair ready to tidy it up off my face, another thought struck me. I need food! I couldn't show up empty-handed and as it was such short notice, I had no baking of any kind at my flat. I knew nonna would have some that she would give me, but as the family hadn't met Ben yet - or even knew his identity - I was hesitant to open that can of worms today. The only alternative was to buy something.

"Can we stop at a bakery on the way?"

Ben looked surprised. "You don't need to bring anything, my mum will have plenty of food."

"No, you don't understand," I told him, "Italians do not arrive at someone's house empty handed."

"I won't tell anyone if you don't." He came to stand behind me and I saw the reflection of his grin in the mirror.

"Are you kidding me? Our Lord and Saviour would turn in his grave if I showed up without pastries." I quickly crossed myself. "Figuratively speaking, of course. The point is, I would be excommunicated; cast out, a disgrace to my family name." He needed to understand how serious this was!

When I heard him snicker I turned to face him, pounding his chest with my fists. "Are you laughing at me, Chortlebatch?" Shit, I have to make sure I don't call his parents...

The rest of that thought was stolen away, along with my breath, by a hot, firm kiss that demanded my attention, his lips moving sensually over mine as his hands on my back held me firmly in place. My palms opened flat and I became lost in the heady sensations of the strong, steady beat of his heart and his tongue tangling with mine. He tasted so delicious, with hints of black coffee and peppermint toothpaste; it was intoxicating and I moaned softly into his mouth, one hand taking hold of his shirt to bring his lips closer still. His arms tightened around me until you could barely fit a piece of paper between us and as he deepened the kiss my knees buckled; I brought my arms around his neck and held on tight.

Is this bliss, this incredible feeling of indescribable perfection? I could make kissing Ben my life's work and never want for anything else. No, life isn't long enough - the work of an eternity. Oh God.

"I love you."

We were both breathing heavily and I whimpered, eyes still closed and face held up towards his as I wondered why the kiss had stopped. I wanted more; I needed more ...

Wait. Who said that? Me?

My eyes opened, focussing on the blue, green and gold pools a mere hairs-breadth in front of me. They looked back at me filled with passion and desire, yes, but also...

"I love you Cara." I blinked at him. "I think I fell head-over-heels the second you started rambling about coffee."

"Th...that's not possible," I protested, "no-one falls in love with me the first time they meet me."

"I did." He smiled at me and touched my face so tenderly it was...oh holy moly.

"It was probably just lust when I told you the horse story." This is all a dream, I'm going to wake up and ...

His smile widened. "I'm telling you I love you and you're arguing with me, you crazy, kooky woman."

"Ben..."

"I love you Cara, with every fibre of my being." Oh my Lord. "It doesn't matter if you don't love me back...although I have to admit to hoping that you do...I just..."

I put my fingers on his lips to silence him then moved my hand to the back of his head, looking deeply into his eyes as I told him from my heart. "Ti amo." I kissed his right cheek. "Ti adoro." I kissed his left cheek. "Il mio cuore ti appartiene." (My heart belongs to you.)

"My Italian's not that good." His soft, warm lips were on my neck. "Ti amo cara mia." (I love you my darling.)

Oh, sweet Heaven, his kiss was heady but this, this feeling is...rapture.

\---

"Darling, breathe."

We were standing in front of his parents' house, one of my hands captured firmly in Ben's while the other held the box of assorted Italian cakes and pastries we'd picked up on the way. It was all very ordinary so far; a carefully tended garden showed someone in the family had a green thumb, the house itself a comfortable family home with newly painted window trims and a timber front door that looked warm and welcoming.

"That's easy for you to say. And calling me darling just makes me more nervous, FYI."

"It does? Why is that my darling?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You are such a funny man Brumblebatch." He laughed at me, the wretch. "Oh God, Ben, what if I call your parents by one of those silly names? They'll think I'm a terrible person making fun of your fampfmpgh." It was difficult to articulate around the lips that descended on mine, so soft and sweet and delicious. I sighed and kissed him back.

Naturally, at that very moment the door opened.

Springing back from Ben like a scalded cat, I felt a blush start at my toes and spread like wildfire so that by the time it reached my face the heat was intense. If he hadn't still been holding my hand so firmly I would have turned tail and run for the hills; I gave an experimental tug, but he held me tight.

"Hello darling," his mother greeted him then she turned to me. "And Cara, how lovely to meet you." Having seen her on television didn't prepare me in the slightest for the effect of her brilliant blue eyes and direct gaze, nor for the twinkle I saw in them. She enveloped me in a warm hug then did the same to Ben.

"Hello mum."

She pulled us inside, closing the door and yelling "Tim, they're here!" before I even had the chance to open my mouth and greet her.

"Mrs Cumberbatch, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh no, none of this Mrs Cumberbatch nonsense! It's a mouthful, isn't it? Call me Wanda."

"Cara's very creative with the name parodies, mum, she comes up with some I haven't seen on the Internet." My mouth dropped open in shock when Ben dobbed me in so completely. I tugged at my hand again but he still held on firmly so unless I wanted his mother to see a tug-of-war match between us, I had to leave it there and settle for giving him a look from under my lashes. He just grinned and squeezed my captive limb. Rat-bag.

Wanda chortled. "Oh they do come up with some good ones, don't they? Brandysnap Custardcream is my favourite." I couldn't help it, I snorted. Oh God! They both looked at me for a second then burst into laughter and just like that, the ice was broken. Wanda led us to the living room and I handed over the box of delicacies. "Bless you, they look positively sinful! I'm going to enjoy every mouthful." She winked at me then took them out to the kitchen and went to find her husband.

"See?" Ben kissed my cheek. "I told you there was nothing to worry about."

"You're the one who should be worried," I moved in closer to murmur softly. "There'll be payback later for that dobbing in, Buttercake Candycrunch." His giggle made me grin from ear to ear.

When I met Timothy it was like falling for Ben all over again; he was sweet, charming and funny and a real gentleman and I couldn't help but feel an instant affection for him - for them both, really. Wanda was a little more down to earth but just as genuine and kind and humorous. It was easy to see how Ben had turned out the way he was and I especially loved getting a glimpse of the bond he shared with his dad.

I was taken on a tour of the garden, Wanda's pride and joy. "Wow, this is just beautiful." Having always lived in flats growing up, we'd only ever had window boxes, so the expanse of grass lined with trees, shrubs and flowers galore was a novelty for me. I stopped and turned 360 degrees slowly, taking it all in; colourful, abundant and lush - I loved it, especially the medley of scents that filled the air.

"Have you any experience in gardening Cara?"

I sighed. "Only if you count being directly responsible for the death of a few dozen plants that led perfectly normal, healthy lives until being given into my care."

"What?" Ben laughed as he put an arm around my waist, "Why haven't I heard the story of your murderous tendencies before now?"

"I've been keeping my deep, dark secret life hidden from you." I joked. "I was scared you might never leave me alone with the plants on your balcony if you knew the truth."

Wanda and Tim laughed as Ben muttered, "Well, there goes my plan of asking you to look after my garden when I go away."

I shook my head and waggled my eyebrows at him before responding. "Oh, I'd look after it all right," making a gun shape with my hand and miming firing it and blowing the smoke from the barrel afterwards.

Ben snuck a quick kiss to my mouth as his parents chuckled and headed back inside. "I had no idea you were a bit of a bad girl," he murmured into my ear. "It's kind of a turn on, I have to say."

"Benedict! Not in your mother's garden!" After patting his bum I hurried up the path ahead of him, giggling.

I offered to help Wanda prepare the meal so we sent the men away while we worked in the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine as I made the salad and Wanda prepared the meat. We worked companionably; reminding me of all the times I'd helped nonna bake growing up. As we were enjoying a good laugh over an anecdote I was telling from my childhood, the menfolk peeped in.

"We wondered what all the hilarity was about," Tim enquired.

"Mum, you're not telling Cara any embarrassing stories about me potty-training or something are you?" I couldn't tell if Ben sounded resigned or aggrieved at the thought.

"No darling," Wanda and I were both having trouble stifling our giggles. "But thank you for reminding me about that story; I'll tell it as soon as you've gone." And she shooed them back out the door again, our laughter ringing in their ears.

\---

"Well, Miss de Luca, now that you are a huge hit with my parents and have charmed them into believing you are a wonderful young lady, I would like to revisit the discussion regarding the bad girl aspect of your persona." Ben took his shirt off, folding it neatly to place on the chair near the bed, then turned me around to unzip my dress, the tips of his fingers tickling my arms as he slowly slipped it down and let it fall to the floor.

"I could tell you, Cumbers, but sadly, I would then have to kill you." I told him over my shoulder as I leaned back against his rock-hard chest and washboard abs. "Which would be a real shame because I have grown quite fond of you."

"Oh you have?" His hands feathered over my stomach and hips and I shivered, reaching a hand back to place behind his head and draw him close to exchange a kiss. "Would you care to expand on that statement?" He unclipped my bra and removed it, putting it and my dress on top of his shirt, keeping one hand around me at all times.

"I might if you weren't wearing far too many clothes." I removed my panties and turned towards him. "Tell you what, I'll make you a deal; if you can get naked in less than five seconds, I'll show you how fond of you I am." Trousers, boxers and socks were removed in an impressive three seconds. They didn't make it to the chair, but I wasn't about to nit-pick. I switched off the light and pushed him back onto the bed, laying assault to his neck with my lips and tongue while my hands explored other areas.

"Oh God."

"He can't help you now, Cumberbum, I have you at my mercy."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now stop talking, I'm trying to concentrate."

He growled and moaned a fair bit after that, but didn't say another word for quite some time.


	16. Am I Safe in the Water?

"Oh God. Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water."

Hell's bells, could this man get any sexier? It's simply not fair to the female libido. There should be an Ovary Destruction Board to lodge complaints to or something, or maybe the Men in Black could wave their little memory wiping thingy around whenever we're affected by unfiltered sex appeal and general gorgeousness. Is that a word? It should be.

The cause of the problem? Well, let's see. Item one: I hadn't seen Ben for five days; item two: during that time he apparently had not shaved; item three: his hair had been cut short at back and sides but left a little longer on top; item four: he had started putting back a little of the weight he'd lost to film Sherlock. Overall effect: when Ben answered his door I was faced with glorious auburn waves my fingers just itched to play in, stunningly buff abs and pecs outlined perfectly by a fitted t-shirt and to top it all off, gingery chin scruff that caused all kinds of clenching and tingling to my lady parts and that I couldn't wait to feel against my bare skin. Anywhere. Everywhere.

Proclamation: To all future directors, producers, casting agents or whoever hires Ben for movie, television or stage roles - every character he plays must henceforth and for all perpetuity look exactly as he does now. No exceptions. This will ensure hordes of women buy tickets to see him and you will all be amazingly successful.

"Am I the shark in this scenario?" He reached out a hand to pull me inside, returning my thoughts to the present as he gave me that little half smile that always turned my knees to jelly - or in this case, jellyfish.

"Oh no, Sexybatch, you are the water." I couldn't help it - okay, I have no restraint, I accept this - I reached up and ran my fingertips softly through the fledgling beard that was having such an effect on my reproductive system. My eyes closed involuntarily and I'm pretty sure I moaned deep in my womb. Holy catfish! Right now I was intentionally forgetting everything I had learned in swimming lessons so I could drown in this man.

"Cara."

"Mmm?" Opening my eyes, I took hold of the front of his shirt to pull him closer for a kiss. I half expected his lips to taste of saltwater and sea air when I nibbled and licked gently at them, my skin brought tinglingly alive by the friction of his facial hair against my cheeks - skin that seemed to have become achingly sensitive in the blink of an eye. One hand skimmed up the column of his neck to play with the hair at his nape while the other buried itself deep in the waves of curls tumbling over his forehead. While he kissed me back with obvious equal enjoyment, his lips left mine far too soon.

"Darling, we're not alone."

Oh my God. I felt like I'd unwillingly taken part in the ice bucket challenge. "Please tell me it's not your parents," I whispered, burying my head in his chest in my mortification.

"No." Dammit, the man sounded amused.

"Aunt or uncle? Your sister? Any relative at all?"

"No." This time he actually chuckled out loud. "Come and meet Tom."

Incredibly relieved that my behaviour had not been overheard by a family member, I held tightly to Ben's hand as he led me to the lounge where another tall, handsome actor with reddish curls and long slender frame rose from the couch to greet me.

"Hello Cara, it's a pleasure to meet you." He proffered a hand and for the second time since meeting Ben I found my knuckles being kissed.

"It's lovely to meet you too, Tom." I glanced at Ben. "You're letting the team down Cumbers, just so you know." Both men looked at me with puzzled faces. "The Chivalrous Gentlemen's Club," I added, "Chris and Tom have now both kissed my hand but there hasn't been a single solitary sign of such chivalrous behaviour from your camp."

"Well, that's telling you mate," Tom laughed and grinned widely at Ben, who promptly raised our joined hands to his mouth and pressed a long, hot kiss on my fingers. Mesmerised by the sudden intensity in his eyes, I felt warm all over and found it hard to tear my gaze away.

"Your pardon, my lady," his voice deepened and to my surprise he began to recite poetry.

 

"'In the light skiff, at evening's hour,

When moved by many a flashing oar,

It swiftly glides past town and tower,

And cliffs that crown the foam-fringed shore,

How sweet to hear the curfew chime

Remind us of the olden time;

How sweet to hear the hollow bell

Blending in sound with Ocean's swell.

 

See how the crew, with eyes that glisten

With feeling at the solemn sound,

Lean on the idle oar and listen,

While peels the bell with note profound:

Hark how through air it floats along,

Now faint and far - now near and strong,

From cliff to cliff the echoes fly,

And now, at length in distance die.

 

But who can know the rapturous feeling

Of one among that listening crew,

Who hears the twilight curfew stealing

Across the Ocean's darkening blue?

Oh, tis to him Love's Signal-Bell,

To heart and ear its accents tell

That soon - ere many moments roll,

He'll meet the mistress of his soul.'"

 

"Oh." I was finding it a little difficult to draw breath but was also conscious of Tom's smiling glance. "Well, that was...lovely." I cleared my throat and hoped the weakness I felt was only temporary.

Ben pressed a swift kiss on my mouth, taking me by surprise. "Sorry darling, I'll try much harder in future."

I saw the twinkle in his eye and the mischievious twitch of his mouth that were irresistible; I loved it when he played along with my kooky moments and my own mouth twitched in response. "See that you do Cumbers, or I'll have to review your membership." When he laughed it lit up his entire face and my heart burst at the seams.

"Tom brought wine," he said, flashing another smile, "Why don't you take him out to the balcony while I open it and fetch glasses?"

"All right."

He turned to Tom. "Just keep an eye on her at all times Tom and make sure she stays well away from my plants."

I laughed and explained the story to Tom as we went outside to enjoy the mildly warm late May sunshine. "So yours is not a green thumb then?" he chuckled.

"The death knell seems to apply only to flowers," I confirmed, smiling. "I can grow tomato plants and herbs successfully - highly desirable for Italian cuisine. What about you and plants? Are they safe in your care?"

"I confess to very little real knowledge of gardening but I do enjoy pottering in the soil occasionally and getting my hands dirty. Though I seem to recall that at some stage in my misspent youth I dug up a complete bed of newly planted nasturtiums from my mother's garden, thinking they were weeds. She wasn't terribly happy about it."

"Your poor mother," I giggled. "But she forgave you, obviously."

"Eventually," he smiled, just as Ben arrived with the wine. We toasted to friendship before taking a sip of the crisp dry Sauvignon Blanc Semillon.

"What area of Italy does your family come from?" Tom asked me.

"Lanuvio," I replied, "It's a town in the Alban Hills about thirty kilometres south-east of Rome. Corioli is quite close," I add, "which was conquered by Caius Martius."

He sat forward in his chair. "That's how he came to be named Coriolanus."

"Yes," I smiled.

"When does your run begin?" Ben asked him, referring to the play.

"December sixth," Tom replies. "You guys will come and see it won't you? Let me know what date suits and I'll organize tickets."

Ben turned to me with a smile. "Would you like to go?"

"Seriously? Is the Pope Catholic?"

His smile widened and he gave me a cheeky wink. "He was last time I looked."

I was trying so hard to stop from spitting wine out of my mouth that I almost snorted it out of my nose instead and ending up coughing and choking while Ben pounded my back, a brazen smirk on his impertinent face.

Dammit Scrumblybunch!


	17. All That I Am

"Thank you very much. You've been such a wonderful audience this evening and we've really enjoyed playing for you - well, all except that guy at the back who kept heckling us. We have one last song and this is going out to Ben. I hope you like it." Jake and I started the intro on guitar then Rick picked up the beat on his drums and Marcus came in on synthesizer.

"I can be tough; I can be tender

Strong as a saint, weak as a sinner

But when I'm in your arms I'm so complete

You bring out what's inside of me

 

A woman with a mind, a body with a soul

A heart full of love that won't let go

I love the way you understand

All that I am

 

I'm a member of the modern world

But sometimes I'm still an old fashioned girl

You make me laugh; you let me cry

I finally found a man who's not afraid to try

 

A woman with a mind, a body with a soul

A heart full of love that won't let go

I love the way you understand

A woman with a mind, a body with a soul

A heart full of love that won't let go

I love the way you understand

All that I am

 

I hold on as long as I can

And keep loving you with all that I am

 

A woman with a mind, a body with a soul

A heart full of love

A woman with a mind, a body with a soul

A heart full of love that won't let go

I love the way you understand

All that I am"

 

"Thank you. Goodnight."

We turned off the mics and took our bows. As we were packing up the gear Jake surprised me by asking, "So...you're still seeing that guy? Ben."

"Yes." He had a strange look on his face. "Are you still going out with Rebecca?" When he shook his head I said, "I'm sorry." He just shrugged and turned to go. "Jake?" He paused to look at me. "You okay?"

"Sure." I wasn't entirely convinced by his answer but left it at that. Seeing my concern, Rick suggested we all go out together the next night after our gig to cheer Jake up; I agreed and said goodnight but as I wandered out the back I couldn't help worrying. Jake didn't usually take break-ups this hard, he'd always been more of a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy; maybe Rebecca had meant more to him than any of us realized.

The sight of Ben waiting by the car distracted me from thoughts of Jake - in figure-hugging jeans, taut white t-shirt and leather jacket, he was absolutely breathtaking and I felt my heart give an erratic flutter. "Hello handsome." He closed the distance between us with a few strides of his long legs and took me in his arms, tilting his head and capturing my mouth in a slow and deliberate kiss of such aching sweetness that I practically swooned. The noise of nearby traffic faded against the sound of blood pumping through my veins.

"Wow." When our lips finally parted my voice sounded uneven and breathless even to my own ears. "Not that I'm complaining at all, but what was that for?" My arms had found their way around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.

"For the stunningly gorgeous, adorable woman who dedicated a song to me tonight."

"Oh, you thought that was for you? No, no, it was for a whole other Ben."

"A different Ben?"

"Mm hmm."

"I see. What's his last name?" His arms tightened and he began laying siege to my neck, his soft lips and the gentle scrape of his beard eliciting spine-tingling sensations that wreaked havoc on my central nervous system, not to mention practically banishing all coherent thought.

"Um...ah..." Come on brain, surely you can think of something. "Ben...Franklin."

"Ben Franklin?" The laughter in his voice could not be mistaken but I admit to being severely distracted by the warm hands sliding under my top, touching bare flesh that shivered in response.

"Um...yeah...older guy...balding...glasses..."

When I opened my eyes his face appeared before me, twinkling eyes catching the light from the streetlamp behind us, teeth gleaming in a smile that was almost as devastating as his kisses had been.

"Cara, darling, you're making no sense."

"Newsflash Slumberbuddy, if you want sense out of me you can't kiss me like that."

He quirked an auburn eyebrow at me. "Like this?"

Oh. Dear. Lord. Lips. Chin fuzz. Tongue. Hands. Mmfghalskphmf.

"Benedict?" Panting, I wondered if I was still standing.

"Mmm?" He seemed a little short of breath too.

"Can we please go somewhere else?"

"Where would you like to go love?"

"Some place with a convenient bed...couch...table...horse."

He half-chuckled, half-choked, but led me nonetheless on unsteady legs to the car and we left.

We didn't find a horse but two of the other three items came in very useful.

\---

My phone rang just as I was finishing up my last lesson the next morning, the Sherlock theme tune alerting me to the identity of the caller. I waved goodbye to Ahmed and his mum then answered. "Hello Mr Franklin."

His laugh made me smile. "Hello crazy lady. How about a bike ride this afternoon?"

That gave me pause for thought. "As in Boss Hog type bike or clingy, leave-nothing-to-the-imagination cycle shorts type bike?"

He laughed again. "Well, I have both but on this occasion I mean the Boss Hog type. I have a spare helmet and jacket if you need it and it's a fine day. We could get out of the city for a while."

"I'd love to. Give me half an hour to get ready?"

"Deal."

I dressed in jeans and t-shirt, pulling on leather ankle boots and a long cardigan for extra warmth and protection. When Ben arrived I took a few minutes to admire the sleek, powerful lines of his bike, a Honda CBF600. "Nice wheels," I observed as he adjusted the seat for me. The jacket he brought was a little large but did the job and the full-face helmets we wore ensured anonymity as we wove through Saturday afternoon traffic and headed for the open road.

"You okay back there?" Ben called at one stage. Me? Hey, I've got a ringside-seat view of the Cumberbum, get to wrap my arms around his waist as tight as I like, there's 76 hp of engine thrumming between my legs and the world is whooshing by at an exhilarating, wind-blown pace. Yes, Ben, I am definitely okay.

"Great," I answer, giving him a thumbs-up for added measure. He doesn't need the details. Well, maybe later.

We rode for about an hour before he pulled over in front of a sign that said 'Welcome to High Woods Country Park.'

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Colchester. I thought if you like we could stretch our legs here for a bit then find a nice pub for a quick drink before we head back."

"Sounds great." So that's what we did; Ben donned his cap and glasses disguise and we stumbled upon a guided tree walk with a ranger named Richard who, despite having no other takers, happily led us through the park explaining woodland management, both current and historical. The beautiful surroundings were well maintained and the atmosphere so tranquil and calm it was difficult to believe we were so close to a bustling town. There were quite a number of pubs and bars to choose from for a drink but once I saw the sign for the Act One bar, I insisted we couldn't possibly drink anywhere else, so we enjoyed a refreshingly cold cider before mounting the bike again for the trip back to London.

"Can you stay for a while?" We were back at my flat. "What time to you have to get ready for tonight?" Ben was attending a theatre event that evening and I had a gig then drinks with the guys.

He consulted his watch. "I've got an hour to spare."

I reached up to kiss his jaw. "I wonder what we can possibly do to while away the time..." Then giving him a flutter of my eyelashes, I took his hand and led him to the couch, sitting on his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck. An hour later his lips were as kiss-swollen as mine when he bid me goodnight, promising to call the next morning.

\---

We'd gone to Callahan's, our usual watering hole, and after a couple of hours were all three sheets to the wind, most of us drinking beer followed by vodka shots. Jake had been knocking them back like his life depended on it so I was astounded to see he was still standing and even slightly coherent.

"I gotta go," Rick announced, swaying slightly on his feet. "Jake, you okay buddy?"

"Sure, sure," he replied, waving his arms around and almost clouting Marcus in the process. "Oo, sorry mate." Marcus swatted his hand away and they both stumbled a little.

"I'll make sure he gets home safe," I assured Rick, blinking at him through my glasses, which were slightly fogged up from a face overheated with alcohol. That last drinking game we'd played had been rigged against me, I was certain of it.

"One more for the road!" Jake announced after they called last orders.

"Oh God," I mumbled, not sure that I could take another one and damned certain that I shouldn't. "Not for me thanks."

"Come on Caz, don't be a piker!"

"No Jake, if I have any more I'll be sick. I'll have a coffee please Nick, a strong one."

"Sure Cara. What about you blokes? Coffee?" Nick asked the others.

They insisted on shots though and after knocking them back Marcus said his farewells and weaved his wobbly way through the tables and chairs and out the door. I took a gulp of my coffee, burning my mouth in the process, though thankfully my earlier imbibing dulled most of the pain. Jake went off to the men's room while I drank the rest and by the time he came back it was time to go.

As we walked to the nearest taxi stand I held his arm, to steady myself as much as him. He piled into the back seat first and I had to push him further over to make room to get in beside him, giving the driver the address for Jake's flat. I didn't say much on the journey, my thoughts too clouded to carry on a normal conversation, but after a few minutes I had the thought that perhaps I should try to sober Jake up a little, or at least rehydrate him so he didn't feel so bad in the morning. I told the driver to go to my flat instead and when we got there, pulled a stumbling Jake along the path and in the door, dropping my things unceremoniously on the floor just inside and heading to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

I was peering at cupboard doors, trying to remember which one held my coffee cups and the sugar, when I heard a sound behind me and turned. The next thing I knew Jake's arms were at my waist pulling me towards him, his head blocking the dim lamplight as his lips descended on mine.


	18. Hitting the Fan

What the bloody hell?

I put my hands on Jake's chest with the intention of pushing him off me but he seemed to take it as a sign that I returned his - whatever this was - and drew me closer, his lips pushing more forcefully against mine. I gasped and his tongue slid into my mouth, curling around my own and shocking the bejeebers out of me. I was held tight so I wriggled, struggling to get some leverage to push at him; he only moaned into my mouth and cupped my head with one hand, his fingers tangling in my hair.

Shit!

Unable to free my head or hands, I took the only other option left to me; I took a small step back, balancing the weight of my right foot on my toes, pushed off as hard as I could and brought my knee up forcefully into his groin. The effect was instantaneous and exactly what I was after.

Jake recoiled, groaning in agony and cupping his privates as he sunk slowly to the floor and writhed around. I gasped for breath, panting and wiping the back of my hand across my mouth as if that would eradicate the taste of him.

"What the fuck Cara!"

"Don't you dare what the fuck me, Jake Anderson! What the hell do you think you were doing, kissing me like that? Are you so drunk you thought you could just...just paw me?" I was now completely sober and getting angrier by the second. "What were you thinking? If you even were thinking, which I hope to God you weren't so I can at least make that an excuse for your behaviour." I took my glasses off to wipe them; they were almost completely fogged up.

The look of agony was slowly fading from Jake's face and he moved as if to get up off the floor. "I'd stay down there if I were you," I warned him, "I'm angry enough to knee you again, you stupid jerk." He wisely chose to stay put. "Shit Jake, you're like a brother to me, what on earth possessed you to -"

"I love you."

I blinked, stunned, sure I hadn't heard his mumbling correctly. "What?"

He looked up at me. "I'm in love with you Cara, I have been for a while now."

"No you're not...you can't...you've never..." What? No, this is not happening. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying."

"I'm not that drunk and I do know what I'm saying. I love you."

"Jake, I...oh shit." I sunk to the floor in front of him.

"Yeah." His mouth twisted in a wry grimace. We sat in silence for a while then I got up and got some ice from my freezer, wrapping it in a tea towel and giving it to him. He placed it over his groin and I sat back down on the floor.

"Jake..." I said softly.

"I know," he hung his head, "You're with him."

"Even if I weren't...Jake, I love you, but not like that." He nodded but wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he said again, but this time there was a mournful, melancholy note to his voice.

Oh bloody, bloody hell. Please don't let this affect our friendship or our working relationship. Please.

A few minutes later I thought he was looking a touch green around the gills so wasn't surprised when he suddenly got up and lurched towards the bathroom. I followed, holding his head as he brought up all the vodka, passing him a damp cloth to wipe his face afterwards and then getting him a large glass of water and some paracetamol. When he'd drunk all the water I fetched more, standing over him until he'd finished it all. "You'll thank me later," I told him. He just grunted.

By now it was almost three in the morning. I didn't want to sent him home to be on his own in this state but there was no way he could sleep comfortably on my couch; Jake was almost as tall as Ben but not as slender and while my couch was soft and comfortable, it was also only a two-seater.

"You take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch." He protested but I insisted and by now he was too weak and worn out to argue much. I took spare blankets and pillows from my wardrobe, gave him a bowl and a towel and told him to call me if he needed me. "Good night Jake."

\---

It was almost nine when I woke, having tossed and turned for about an hour before I managed to drift off. Although I'd had plenty of water before going to bed I felt fairly headachy and lethargic; that improved a little once I'd had a nice hot shower and gotten dressed. By the time I had folded the blankets up I heard Jake moaning.

I knocked on the bedroom door. "Jake? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," came back.

"There's plenty of hot water," I told him when he didn't add anything further and heard rustling sounds before the door opened and he came out wearing just his boxer shorts. He looked terrible. Well, his face looked like he felt terrible; his body looked... I'd never seen him unclothed before so I had no idea he was so...Oh God, I can't be looking. I hastily averted my eyes, blushing a little.

"Cara, I'm so sorry about last night, I..."

"It's okay," I told him, not wanting him to rehash it and feel embarrassed all over again. "Go have your shower, you'll feel much better afterwards."

While he was in the bathroom I returned the blankets and pillows to my wardrobe then went to put the kettle on, desperately in need of caffeine. I had the fridge door open, staring at a pot of yoghurt and wondering if my stomach could take it, when there was a knock at the door.

"Ben!"

"Hello love." He came in looking trim, taut and well put together, all things I was definitely not feeling right now. "That must have been some night out," he smiled, running his fingers delicately over the bags under my eyes and kissing me lightly. "How about I make you a nice strong cup of coffee?"

Oh God. Oh shit. The sound of running water had stopped, which meant that any minute now Jake would probably come out of the bathroom. Did he take his clothes in with him? Oh God, please don't let him come out in just his boxers, please don't...

Hearing the door, and no doubt also seeing my nervous glance towards it, Ben turned just in time to see Jake emerge wearing jeans but barefoot and bare-chested, face obscured as he vigorously towelled dry his shoulder length blonde hair. "Cara, do you have a spare toothbrush? My mouth feels like the S-bend of a..." He stopped, catching sight of Ben, who had drawn himself up and was standing ramrod-straight and stiff, his face an unreadable mask.

All right Cara, do something. This Does Not Look Good.

"Ben, you remember Jake." What the hell? Introductions? Seriously girl!

Neither man extended a hand to the other; they merely gave each other a small, stiff nod of the head and I swear I saw Ben's nostrils flare. They carried on a bit of a stare-off for a minute or two then Jake spoke. "I'll go and finish getting dressed." And he went into my bedroom and shut the door. I don't think that helped. When I heard Ben draw in a hissing breath I was sure of it.

Lord, I need caffeine. Or something stronger. Oh, no, not alcohol; my mind shuddered at that thought.

Just as I opened my mouth Jake emerged again, this time fully clothed. He walked over to me, eyeing Ben warily as he did so, gave me a quick, chaste peck on the cheek - at which I involuntarily drew back - and spoke. "Thanks for looking after me." I nodded, avoiding everyone's eyes. "Happy birthday for tomorrow." I'd completely forgotten about my birthday - whether or not it was destined to be a happy one remained to be seen. Then he left, but I could feel Ben bristling beside me. I wasn't terribly impressed with Jake for leaving me to do the explanations on my own but that was something to deal with later; right now I had more important things to concentrate on.

"Alright, I know it looks bad, but I have an explanation." I took a deep breath and plunged on. "Jake was quite drunk last night so I brought him here to sober him up with coffee or at least rehydrate him so he wouldn't be so hung over this morning. He ended up being ill and I didn't want him to go home in that state in case he asphyxiated on his own...well, you know...so he stayed here. He slept in the bed and I slept on the couch." I saw his eyes dart to the couch, now completely empty of pillows and blankets. "I've put the bedclothes away already," I added.

His face was still a mask; I couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling - though I could take a good guess at the former.

"He slept in your bed?" His voice sounded clipped and short, not his usual dulcet tones.

"Yes."

"And you slept out here?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

"And nothing happened?"

Ooo. Tricky. "We didn't have sex, which I presume is what you're really asking."

His eyes narrowed and he sucked in a breath before pacing around me. It unnerved me and reminded me once again of a panther stalking its prey. "But that wasn't the question Cara."

"No. He...he kissed me."

I heard a hissing breath again and thought perhaps it was just as well Jake had left after all. Ben had an aura of unleashed power and fiercely restrained anger about him now.

"Did you kiss him back?"

"What? No!"

"So he kissed you and slept in your bed and wandered around your flat half naked but you expect me to believe that you didn't kiss him back and slept on the couch - on your own - all night?"

I wasn't at all happy about the tone of his voice; it almost sounded like he was accusing me of lying to him. I pulled myself up to my full five foot five inches, looked him square in the eyes and said, "Yes Benedict, I do. I expect you to believe me and trust me when I'm telling you the truth. If you do, then the next words out of your mouth had better damn well be an apology for the tone you've just used and if you don't, there's the door - don't slam it on your way out."


	19. Birthday Girl

Face still impassive, he stood there without moving a single hair. But his eyes - in those I saw the emotions warring inside him - anger, pride, jealousy and hurt.

I was hurting too. Hurting over his comment, hurting over Jake, hurting most at the thought that any second now Ben could walk out that door and out of my life.

My lungs felt painful; taking a breath was like sucking in fire, the flames scorching me and leaping up my chest to lick at my heart.

Milliseconds felt like hours.

"My last girlfriend...cheated on me." His voice was so quiet I had to strain to listen.

Dammit. Stupid woman; what the hell were you thinking? I took a deep breath, in spite of the flames. "I'm sorry." I said softly, shaking my head a little. "But I'm not her."

His eyes bore into mine. I let him see sympathy and hurt but also resolution; we couldn't have a relationship if there was no trust, it was as simple as that.

A hand came up and ploughed through his hair then ran over his beard. A hand, I noticed, that was shaking. Oh God, Ben, please.

"No." My heart stopped. "No, you're not." I took a small, life-preserving breath; the one he took was deep and ragged and pierced my heart. "God, Cara, I...I'm sorry, I...I'm just a jealous idiot, I...can you forgive me?" His eyes still held a residue of pain but there was pleading and fear in there too and most importantly, certainty and trust. "Please, I...I had no right to speak to you like that, I'm sorry."

Oh, thank God. I stepped towards him, his arms opened then closed around me, holding me tight. I could hear his heart thumping and feel him shaking still; I pulled him closer and rubbed my hands over his back. "If it's any consolation," I murmured into his chest, "When Jake kissed me, I kneed him in the balls."

His rumble of laughter was the sweetest sound I could hope to hear. "God, I love you Cara de Luca!"

"Glad to hear it," I told him, lifting my head from his chest to smile at him. "So why aren't you kissing me already?"

He quickly remedied that situation - very, very thoroughly.

\---

"All right, let's go over the ground rules one last time." Ben groaned and moved a hand from my hip to my breast. "Definitely none of that at the party, Cuddlebatch."

His grin, equal parts cheeky and seductive, got a few things to twinge that shouldn't be right now and I had trouble concentrating on what I wanted to say. I tutted at him but didn't make him move his hand. Well, not move it away anyway, it did move...um, okay, hmm, let's not get distracted. What was I saying? Something about...oh yes! Ground rules.

We were laying in bed after what was, if I'm honest, some pretty amazing make up sex - actually, can you call it make up sex when you haven't technically broken up to make up? Oh, who cares, it's all semantics. Soooo, um...rules! Yes, right. Although my birthday is not until tomorrow, tonight is my party, where all my aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers and grandparents would be gathering to celebrate the fact that I've gotten yet another year older. Hooray. What was different about this one is that Ben would be attending and therefore meeting my family for the first time - all of them, in one fell swoop. It had the potential to be a massive coup or a total disaster, depending on the toss of the coin, the luck of the draw, the spin of the...yeah, okay, you get it. Personally, I thought the odds were too even to call.

"You can kiss me on the hand or the cheek but not on the lips. You may hold my hand but don't put your arm around my waist. You've never seen the inside of my flat, let alone stayed the night. Don't swear or take Our Lord's name in vain."

"You do that all the time."

"Not in front of my family!" I shuddered, remembering the last time I had done so and my nonna had literally cleaned my mouth out with soap - not the nice soap she kept for visitors, either.

"Darling, these people do live in the 21st century, don't they?" Ben interrupted, his hand stilling momentarily, which left my body feeling a little...neglected.

I glared at him. "No of course not! Haven't you been listening to a word I've been saying?"

\---

We were walking up the path to my brother's house, it being the only place large enough to hold everyone. I smoothed down the skirt of my dress nervously and stopped Ben to adjust his tie for about the tenth time. He bent as if to kiss me then remembered and straightened again, sighing. "Relax, sweetheart, it'll be fine. I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise. I am used to greeting crowds, remember."

"It's not you I'm worried about," I muttered, glancing towards the house, knowing that behind the closed curtains were sure to be at least twelve relatives peering out to watch us approach. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to me and I gasped, grabbing Ben by the arm to halt him again. "Oh G-heck! If any of my male relatives ask you what your intentions towards me are, tell them to mind their own damn business. No, you can't say that. Tell them...tell them...that we haven't known each other for very long and you don't know your intentions. That should hold them for a little while."

"What if I do know?"

"Know what?" I was distracted by one of the curtains twitching. Aunt Sophia, I bet.

"Know what my intentions towards you are."

He met my startled gaze with a steady, tender look that set my heart racing. My mouth dropped open, luckily going dry at the same time so I was saved the indignity of drooling. "Ben..." I breathed.

"Cara! È quasi ora! Everybody is waiting for you." My brother Tony stood in the now open doorway, gesturing in an agitated manner. (It's about time!)

"All right, Tony, keep your shirt on."

I took a calming breath. "Tony, this is Benedict. Ben, my brother Antonio."

"Buona sera Benedict." "Buona sera Antonio." They shook hands and we were ushered inside, where nonno and nonna greeted us.

"Ben, these are my grandparents. Nonno, nonna, this is Benedict."

"Buona sera signore e signora de Luca, è un piacere conoscerti." (Good evening Mrs and Mrs de Luca, it's a pleasure to meet you.)

"Buona sera Benedetto." "Buona sera. Benvenuto." (Good evening. Welcome.)

"Grazie."

Nonna gave me a small wink, which cheered me a little.

"Lei parla italiano, Benedetto?" nonno asked. (You speak Italian, Benedict?)

"Un po'solo. Ti prego, perdonami." (A little only. Please forgive me.)

"Certamente. È irrilevante." (Of course. It is of no consequence.)

"Cara, child, introduce Benedict to your family."

We went around the room while I introduced Ben to Marco, Maria, my aunt Rosa, uncle Tito, cousin Franco...and so on, and so on. I knew there was no way he would remember all their names and it must have been incredibly tedious for him, but he was unfailingly polite and friendly to them all.

They'd been warned beforehand, of course. When I told my grandparents who I was bringing along, I had given two strict instructions: one; speak English as much as possible and two; no one in the family could ask for autographs or selfies and there was to be absolutely NO taking of photographs or talking about Ben and I outside of the family. It was to be il nostro segreto - our secret. Nonna promised to spread the word.

Tony and Marco hadn't believed me at first when I told them I was dating him.

"Benedict Cumberbatch? You mean Sherlock from the TV? Come on, sorellina, pull the other leg."

"What is that supposed to mean Marco? You don't think I'm good enough for an actor to go out with?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Isn't he in that new Star Wars movie?"

"God, Marco, its Star Trek not Star Wars." I rolled my eyes.

"E 'la stessa differenza Cara." He shrugged his shoulders. (It's the same difference Cara.)

"Don't take Our Lord's name in vain," Tony chimed in. "Nonna would wash out your mouth with soap." I groaned. Give me patience!

"He's very dishy Cara," Maria came to my rescue, "and he seems very nice when he's on talk shows and things, doing interviews." God bless Maria. I sent her a smile that she returned. And then the inquisition began: Where did you meet him? How long have you been going out? Where does he live? Is he from a good family? Is he Catholic? Is he respectful? What are his prospects? (I would have sworn at this one if the threat of nonna and the soap weren't nearby.)

When I'd taken about all I could of my brothers' well-meaning interference, I put my foot down. "Enough! Tony, Marco - much as I love you guys, I neither want nor need your approval of whom I do or do not date. I'm bringing Ben to my birthday party because he wants to meet my family, which I personally think you should give him credit for - and I'm telling you now, you will behave yourselves and you will not embarrass me, or so help me, I'll...I'll...tell nonno and nonna what you used to get up to in the library with Stansa Cordielli," I looked pointedly at Marco, "and how nonna's prize-winning ricotta cake ended up in the window box with the tomato plants," this time looking at Tony.

That shut them up.

Meanwhile, back at my party...

After introductions, Ben was whisked off to join the menfolk while my aunts and female cousins all clamoured around me dying to know how I'd managed to snaffle myself a Hollywood movie star. I really didn't want to give out too much detail so merely said we'd met at work then began asking each of them about their husbands and children - a guaranteed distraction; they loved talking about their families.

A while later I was congratulating myself on getting away for a few quiet moments alone when -

"Buon compleanno Cara." (Happy birthday Cara.)

"Thank you." It was my cousin Abrianna, the bitch of the family - well, every family has one, don't they? She's a year younger than me, married to a successful orthodontist and has four beautiful children - you'd think with a mother like her, they would be total brats, but in actual fact they're four of the sweetest kids I know, probably due to the fact that her husband Tomas is the nicest person on the planet. Anyway, point is, she never failed at any family gathering to point out how wonderful her life is and rub my face in my abject failure to secure myself a husband and do what every good Italian woman should do, that is, have lots of babies. Told you she's a bitch.

"How have you been Bri?" She hated that nickname. "How are the kids?" She started rambling on about their scholastic genius, sports prowess and musical talents (hello, why is she not bringing them to me for lessons?) but I only listened with one ear. The other was straining to hear what Ben could possibly be talking about so animatedly over in the corner with nonno, my cousins Pietro and Nicolo, uncle Tito and Tony. It was quite a gathering; all of them at least six foot tall with what nonna called 'a good head of hair' and even being objective about my relatives, not at all bad looking. Ben's auburn colouring stood out in the sea of black, of course, as did his lighter eyes.

Just then he turned and caught me watching him, giving me a surreptitious wink and that adorably sexy half smile. I smiled back, not noticing that Bri had stopped talking and was watching us, a frown marring her otherwise perfectly smooth forehead.

"How did you really meet Ben?"

I almost choked; he'd been introduced to everyone as Benedict, so where did she get off calling him Ben as if she knew him? And what? She doesn't believe that we met at work? Sod off Bri! "He picked me up in a bar," I replied, which, while technically true, made it sound a little more scandalous - to her anyway - than it actually was.

I excused myself and went over to help nonna and Maria bring out more food - as if we needed more; the tables were already groaning with plates full of steaming dishes. Mind you, once my relatives got stuck in, those piles would deplete quite rapidly. If there is one thing Italians do well, it's eating.

"No, no, cara mia, it's your special day; leave us to do the work. Go and talk to that charming young man you brought with you, he looks like he's missing your company." Nonna never fails to surprise me. I looked over at Ben again to see that he had left the group of men and was indeed heading in my direction so I followed nonna's orders and met him half way.

"Hi," I murmured, thinking how gorgeous he looked in his dark suit, white shirt and black tie. I was longing to put my arms around him and hold him close, to breath in his scent and get lost in his eyes - but had to settle for standing as close as I decently could in company and appreciating his cologne.

"Hi," he murmured back and oh G-goodness, I really, really wanted to be alone with him right now and kiss that little half smile all the way into next week.

"How are you surviving?" He seemed to be holding his own so at this point I was really just making small talk while trying to think up excuses I could make for leaving early from my own birthday party. Musical emergency? Outbreak of plague?

"Just fine. How about you?" I was saved from having to answer by nonna announcing dinner was ready and the next minute we were almost crushed by the horde of bodies brushing past us to get to the food. Looking around, I saw an opportunity and I seized it; I grabbed Ben's hand and pulled him out of the room and along the hallway, slipping through the now empty kitchen and out the back door to the seclusion of Tony and Maria's garden. Once we were safe and alone Ben, being obviously a man of similar mind to my own, took me in his arms and kissed me. Thank God.


	20. If Music Be the Food of Love

We'd finally managed to escape the party after most of the other guests had left, suffering through the seemingly endless round of enthusiastic hugs and cheek-kisses that were a staple of every family gathering. Now back at my place, we sat on the couch; I turned towards him and said, "Ben, we need to talk."

"I didn't tell your Aunt Sophia you thought her lasagne was too dry, honest sweetheart. I think Marco might have let it slip..."

I grimaced, remembering the tight look of affront and wounded pride on my aunt's face as she retreated in a huff to the other side of the room. It had taken quite a bit of apologising and cajoling to get her smiling again. Damn you Marco. "Well...umm, no – I mean we need to talk about what happened this morning." Before I could say anything further he spoke.

"I'm sorry I let my jealousy get in the way. I just...well, you work with him almost every night, you sing love ballads and duets together – then to find him here...and when you said he'd kissed you...after what Stephanie did..." He took deep breath. "But as you pointed out, you're not her and I know you've always been up front with me...I'm sorry sweetheart, I really am."

"I know," I squeezed his hands, "and I want you to know how much I appreciate that you apologised. Ben, it's important that you know you can always trust me to be honest with you, whether it's good news or bad. If something is wrong I'll tell you – well, you know already I can't stop from blurting out pretty much anything at all, so...And I need you to be completely honest too, I don't want..." I closed my eyes briefly and took a deep breath. "My parents...everything seemed perfect on the surface until one day my mother...she just up and left and it almost killed my father...she never said a word about being unhappy or...Ben, I couldn't bear it if..."

He took me in his arms as the soft tears fell. "I'm so sorry sweetheart. That won't happen with us, I promise." He took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and gently wiped my face. "Total honesty." The kiss he gave me was sweet and tender and my fears melted away.

\---

"Happy birthday my love."

I stirred and stretched, opening my eyes to find him smiling at me; putting a hand behind his softly tousled hair, I pulled him down for a kiss. "Thank you." My other hand went to his nape so he couldn't move away. "Are you in a hurry to leave?"

"It's early yet, I have some time to spare if you have something particular in mind." The look he gave me was half teasing, half desire.

"Well," I drawled, moving one hand to play lightly with his chest hair, "There's something you did last night that I wouldn't mind you...doing...again...only..." I felt a blush beginning as I stammered on, "you have to keep in mind that I had a convent education...things weren't...discussed, I've never...there are things I can't...say out loud...in words." My blush deepened. "I mean, I can say them in my head, but you can't hear them in there and...Hell and Damnation... it's silly, I know..."

He stared at me for a minute, a startled look on his face, but that faded and the smile he gave me next swept all my embarrassment away. "Well then, I think I'll just have to repeat everything and you can tell me when we get to the part you...particularly liked. How does that sound?"

He had barely finished speaking when he put his soft, warm mouth to my neck and his long, slender fingers began their exploration at my breasts. I gasped and managed to say "Good plan," before I lost the desire to speak and simply gave in to the pleasure. Well, all right, in the spirit of complete honesty, I did take the Lord's name in vain a few times. Maybe quite a few.

"I'll see you tonight. Around seven I think, but I'll call you if things run a bit late." Ben had a magazine interview and photo shoot lined up for that day but we were seeing each other for dinner.

"Okay."

"Have a wonderful birthday." He kissed me. "I love you."

"Thanks. I love you too. Don't be too perfect or sexy for the article."

"I hardly think that's likely," he gave a shrug, "but why not?"

"There's enough women drooling over you already out there," I replied, taking his tie and pulling him close for another kiss. "I don't need more."

"As wonderful as I'm sure they all are," he said, drawing me tight within his embrace, "they don't hold a candle to my kooky queen." His kiss left me wobbling and wondering what day it was as I closed the door behind him.

\---

"I still don't understand why you need to drive all the way over here, Cutiebritches, just to pick me up and take me back to your place for dinner. Why don't I just make my own way there as usual?"

"Because it's your birthday, sweetheart, and that deserves something special. Now, how soon can you be ready?"

"Give me five minutes."

"You're kidding."

"Yes of course I am. Do you know any woman who can be ready in five minutes? Jessica Rabbit, maybe. Although, you have to hand it to her, when she sets out to impress, she really..."

"Cara."

"Thirty minutes."

"I'll see you then."

He arrived twenty-nine minutes later.

"Wow! Darling, you look..." I didn't mind that he didn't finish the sentence; the admiration in his eyes was far more eloquent than mere words could ever be.

My friends had given me a voucher for a spa treatment, so I'd spent half the day being pampered and preened, ending with a deep tissue massage and organic facial. Now I was wearing the simple black bodycon dress that I'd worn the night he first drove me home from work in his Jag and had pinned my hair up in a low messy bun.

I did a twirl. "Thank you handsome. You're looking particularly Yummybatch yourself." He had on his navy suit with a light blue shirt, his beard was trimmed and he was wearing his glasses – he did, in fact, look Totally Adorable. Yes, with Capital Letters.

"I'm glad you approve. These are for you." He produced a bunch of flowers that had been hidden behind his back; blush-pink roses tied with satin ribbon that smelled exquisite.

"They're beautiful, thank you. Come in while I put them in water."

"It seems I'm not your only admirer," he said, indicating the two other vases of flowers adorning my open kitchen/dining/living area.

"The carnations are from nonna and nonno," I told him, "and the mixed bunch are from the guys in the band. All the guys in the band," I hastened to add when his face looked a little pinched. He nodded, still looking at them, but turned to me with a genuine smile when I slipped a hand into his. "I'm ready to go."

He pulled our hands up to give my fingers a warm kiss then tucked my arm into his elbow and announced, "Then come, my lady, your carriage awaits."

\---

"Ben!" I breathed, looking around in awe.

Candles of all different shapes and sizes, some of them scented judging by the aromas of sandalwood and jasmine that tantalised my nostrils, bathed his dining room in a soft glow. There were more pink roses in a small vase on the table and I could hear music playing softly in the background. Ed Sheeran, one of my favourite artists. I turned to him.

"It's the romantic dinner I told Marco to do."

He smiled a little sheepishly. "I knew that it was something that would appeal to you too – well, I thought it was...I hoped it was. I mean, I was pretty sure..." My fingers on his lips stopped him from continuing.

"Now who's rambling nervously?" I teased, delighted and touched when he blushed; I kissed his mouth softly. "It's absolutely perfect, thank you."

"You're welcome." He drew my chair out for me, kissed me on the cheek as I sat and said, "I'll be back in a minute."

I was gazing at the oil painting over the fireplace when he returned with a bottle of wine; as he poured I asked about it. "You've got a new painting."

"Yes, do you like it?"

"I do, it's very raw and emotive. Who's the artist?"

"Me."

I stared at him, surprised into temporary silence. Once I'd found my voice again I said, "You told me you dabbled in painting, you never said you did anything like this," I indicated the large canvas.

"Oh, well, yes – occasionally." He lifted his glass in a toast. "Here's to you, love, happy birthday." We clinked glasses and drank, then he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a small rectangular box tied with ribbon and placed it in front of me. "A small gift."

"Ben, you didn't need to...all of this is enough, but thank you."

I opened it to find a silver necklace; the pendant a guitar pick, engraved with the words 'Without music, life would be an error.' On the reverse, the quote's author: Fredrich Nietzsche.

"It's beautiful." I removed it from the box. "Will you put it on for me?"

He came behind me to fasten the clasp then pressed warm lips to my neck. "I like your hair like this," he murmured, touching it softly with his fingers then leaving me shivering when he ran them over my neck and shoulder, bare but for the narrow strap of my dress.

"Have you got food cooking in the oven?" I asked, finding oxygen in short supply.

"Yes, why?"

I turned to look in his face, letting him see the feelings his touch was arousing in me, watching his breath catch. "We'd better eat now, love, or we're going to ruin another meal."

He swallowed, nodded, and went to rescue the food.

\---

As I made my way to our gig on Wednesday night I was feeling rather anxious; I hadn't seen or heard from Jake since his speedy exit from my flat on Sunday morning and I wasn't sure how things stood between us. I fervently hoped there wouldn't be any awkwardness.

We'd played at Donoghue's Irish Pub on Wednesday and Thursday nights for a couple of years. It was a good gig, the patrons were easy going and happy to listen to almost anything. Patrick, the owner, paid well and asked only that we threw in songs from Irish artists every now and then; he didn't really care which ones.

Rick and Marcus had just arrived when I reached the back entrance so I gave them a hand to carry the equipment in. We set everything up quietly and looked over the set list again. With only ten minutes left before we were due to go on there was still no sign of Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading Photograph. If you would prefer to read the whole story rather than in instalments, the completed version is available on Wattpad, as well as its sequel, Still the One (continuing). Both are under my username of Lincoln4460.


	21. Just Grow a Pair

"Where the fuck has Jake got to?" Rick was getting pretty annoyed; he'd been trying Jake's mobile but it went straight to voicemail each time. "Have you heard from him, Marcus?" Marcus shook his head no then they both looked to me. "He got home safely Saturday night, didn't he Cara?"

Oh God. What do I say? I thought we'd always been very open with one another but Jake's revelation had thrown me for a loop and now I didn't know what we did and didn't tell each other any more. I settled for something that was the truth without spilling the whole sordid story. "He was fine when I saw him on Sunday."

"Okay, well, we'd better move some songs around." We'd almost finished sorting that, two minutes before we were due to start, when Jake appeared. He kept his head down as he slung his guitar over his shoulder and moved to the mic, barely acknowledging the others and ignoring me completely. Rick grumbled under his breath but muttered, "All right then, back to the original set," and got behind his drums. I moved to my mic and waited for Rick to count us in.

Though it was by no means our worst performance musically, I felt there was no heart and soul in it. Jake sang his songs almost robotically, something the audience probably couldn't tell because he sounded as great as ever, but I knew. In our duets he was distant, staying at his own mic instead of sometimes coming to share mine, hardly glancing at me at all as we sang together. In each break he would disappear, only returning to the stage at the last minute as the next set began and at the end of the night he took off without staying to help pack up as he usually did.

I felt miserable.

Thursday and Friday nights were no different.

"What's going on?" Rick asked me as we packed up on Friday. "Have you two had a fight about something?"

"He hasn't said a word to you all week," Marcus chipped in, "At least he's talking to us, even if it's only monosyllables or grunts."

I gave a deep sigh, running my fingers through my hair, figuring it was time they knew what had happened. "Joe's?" I suggested.

"Sure."

We went in and ordered our usuals, taking a quiet table near the middle of the room and as we waited for the food to arrive I explained what had taken place.

"Oh crap," was Marcus's verdict.

"Double crap and a pile of doo-doo," Rick agreed.

"I'm sorry guys, I had no idea it would impact on you so much. I don't know what to do or what to say to him..."

"Cara, love, it isn't your problem, it's Jake's and he's the one who's got to sort it. I can't say I'm surprised though."

"What?" I was astonished. "What does that mean?"

"I've known for months how he felt, so..." Rick shrugged. A big bloke with fiercely cropped dark hair and tattoos everywhere, he was often very perceptive when it came to matters of the heart.

"But he was going out with Rebecca."

"Self-preservation, love," He patted my hand. "You were all bedroom-eyes over your new bloke, so..."

I felt terrible all over again.

The next afternoon Ben and I were enjoying the fresh air and sun on his balcony. I was sitting next to him with my legs over his lap and had asked him about upcoming work commitments but was only partially listening as he talked about a number of radio shows and documentary voice-overs he had lined up.

"Some friends and I have launched our own production company, so I've a porn flick to make for that and in September I have to go to Toronto for the Most Boring Boyfriend Alive Competition. I think I'm a shoe-in this year, don't you?"

I patted the hand that was resting on my knee. "You'll be amazing, as always."

It took a few minutes of complete silence before I realised something was up. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

His look was a mixture of amusement and concern. "You were miles away. What's wrong? Is it something I can help with?" He held his arms out for me to snuggle into and I did it thankfully, the familiar scent and touch of him so comforting.

I sighed. "It's Jake." I told him about Jake's behaviour and Rick's comments. "We've worked together for ten years and I've always considered him one of my best friends. Now...I don't know what's going to happen and I...I feel so guilty."

"It's not your fault darling."

"I know that here," I tapped my head, sighing again, "but it's a whole different story here." This time I placed my hand over my heart.

His arms squeezed me and he kissed my hair. "So I'm guessing it's not a good night for me to pop in?"

I shook my head. "No, probably not. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Will you come here afterwards? Are we spending the day together tomorrow?"

"I'm not much company, are you sure you want to?"

"You are much quieter than usual and that does take a fair amount of getting used to, I admit," he gave a chuckle when I punched his shoulder rather half-heartedly. "But yes, of course I want to be with you." Our kiss was sweet and tender and for a few moments, surrounded by his strength and warmth, I forgot everything else.

After ten minutes of thoughtful silence I said, "I need to make Jake fall out of love with me so we can go back to how we were. How do I do that?"

"You're asking the wrong man darling." He tilted my head up and looked me in the eyes. "I don't want to know the answer to that question."

\---

"Hi Marcus."

"Hey Cara." He was just leaning against his old VW van; the sliding door was open and I could see band equipment that needed to be taken inside.

"What's going on?"

"Rick's inside talking with Jake."

"Oh." I leaned beside him. "Should I...?"

He shook his head. "Just stay here, I reckon."

"Okay."

Eventually the back entrance opened and Rick came out.

"Well?" Marcus asked.

Rick shook his head. "I can't talk any sense into him."

That's when my pissy streak kicked in again. "Oh, for Christ's sake," I muttered, "I've had enough of this." I strode inside and found Jake at the bar; grabbing him by the shirt I hauled him towards a small room off to the left, calling out, "Need to use your storage room for a minute Bob." He gave the okay in a surprised voice. I flipped on the light, shoved Jake in and slammed the door shut.

"What the hell are you playing at Jake?" He opened his mouth but I didn't give him the chance to reply. "I thought you were in love with me?"

"I am dammit!"

"Bullshit! Being in love - truly in love - is the act of a mature, intelligent adult. It means you care more about the other person's welfare than you do your own; you would do anything - move Heaven and earth - to make them happy. You, on the other hand, are acting like a petulant child who's been told he can't have a new toy and what's worse is, you're taking this out on Rick and Marcus too. Added to that, you may have been in love with me for a few months, but you've been one of my best friends for ten years Jake, and you're taking that away too. And why? Because I don't love you back? Well newsflash, Romeo, we can't pick and choose who we love; you of all people should know that. I'm sorry I don't return your feelings, I'm sorry you feel embarrassed and miserable, but the thing I am most sorry about is that you are letting that ruin our friendship." I took a deep breath but he didn't say anything, he was too stunned at my outburst. "Now, we've got fifteen minutes before we have to be on that stage. In that time you have to decide whether you're going to keep acting like an idiot or if you're going to grow a pair and act like a man." And with that, I left.

When I got back outside to the van I was trembling from head to toe, my face flushed.

"What did you do?" Rick asked.

"I...I read him the riot act." I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry guys, I may have ruined things completely."

"Well," Rick put an arm around me in comfort, "he had it coming."

We began hauling the equipment inside. "Do I set up Jake's mic or not?" Marcus asked after connecting mine. I shrugged then jumped when a voice behind us said, "Of course." We all turned and there was Jake, looking a little uncertain and shamefaced. "Just don't put it too close to Cara's." I felt a lurch of disappointment but he went on. "Not yet, anyway, it...it's going to take a while, okay?" He looked directly at me and I nodded, my heart squeezing.

"Okay." I told him.

Rick and Marcus exchanged a glance then looked at me and at Jake before both saying, "Okay." After a minute's awkward silence Rick rubbed his hands together, proclaiming, "All right guys, good talk. Now let's get this show on the road." We all bustled into action and managed to start only two minutes late.

\---

I gave Ben a condensed account of the evening later as he held me tightly on his lap, kissing my hair and forehead as I spoke.

"I can almost feel sorry for him, having been on the receiving end of your anger myself."

"Almost?" I let the comment about my temper slide, it being true after all.

"Well, he did try to poach my woman."

My arms tightened around his neck. "I like that," I told him, kissing his mouth.

"Like being poached?" he teased as his fingers began removing the pins that held up my hair.

"Like being your woman," I murmured, putting my mouth to his neck and thrilling at the low growl he gave in response. As he raked his fingers through the hair now cascading down my back I began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Shall we take this to the bedroom?" he asked, reaching behind me to open the zip on my dress. I wriggled it loose then held my arms up so he could pull it over my head.

Removing his shirt, I ran my hands over him then held on to his shoulders and pulled us both sideways and down so he was laying on top of me. "We'll get to the bed later," I told him, "No point in wasting a perfectly good couch."

\---

"Now, about that porn flick you mentioned earlier..." We lay in bed, a pile of tangled limbs.

"Oh, so you were listening."

"Well, something like that catches your attention...anyway, I was thinking..."

"I'm not really sure I want to hear this..."

"What? It's a compliment!" I pouted.

Ben groaned. "All right, tell me."

"No, no, you don't want to hear it."

"I do want to hear it."

"You said you didn't."

He sighed. "I changed my mind."

"Seriously, Cookiebatch, one minute you don't, then you do, next thing I know you'll be...oh God Ben!"

"Are you going to tell me or not?"

"I will if you promise to do that again..." I panted, longing for more.

"As many times as you wish, my love, if you will just put me out of my misery and tell me what you were thinking about me and a porn movie."

I pulled him close and whispered it into his ear, then watched in amazement as he turned bright red from his scalp down to his..."Ben, even your chest is blushing!"

"God Cara!" He choked out. "What happened to those convent-educated inhibitions you told me about?"

"Oh, well, that particular...um...thing...is something we did talk about, rather a lot actually - though not in front of the nuns, of course."

He made an indistinct noise, still blushing madly. "I should tell your nonna so she can wash your mouth out with soap," he threatened.

I arched a brow at him, barely able to keep from grinning. "Well, if you also want to tell her the context of what I said, then go right ahead." I had him; I knew it and he knew it. I laughed.

"You are an incorrigible wench." He shook his head at me.

"I know," I dimpled, "That's why you love me."


	22. To Sing or Not to Sing, That is the Question

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

A few minutes more of silence passed but I could still feel it.

“Ben, cut it out.”

“I’m not doing anything sweetheart.”

I sighed and put my book aside, looking at him in mild exasperation. He sat in the armchair near the window, his long limbs stretched out in front of him and his script on his lap, the light pouring over his shoulder illuminating his left side, tinting curls of auburn a brighter red or gold and sharpening his cheekbone to near-fatal acuteness. His glasses obscured my view of his eyes but I knew if I could I would see a glint in them, a hint of mischief and humour. Damn the man. Too darn gorgeous and cheeky for my own good, that’s what you are Cumbers.

“You’re watching me while I’m reading and it’s distracting. I’ve already had to read that last paragraph four times.”

From my perch on the couch I saw his lips twitch before he spoke. “You’ve been smiling a lot while you’re reading,” he observed.

“There’ve been a lot of fun things happening in the plot.”

He leaned forward, placing the script on the coffee table near his legs. I watched his shirt pull tautly across his chest and shoulders as he moved and sucked in a breath; in this light, the burgundy darkened considerably and brought Sherlock’s ‘Purple Shirt of Sex’ vividly to mind. Oh Lord. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a Sherlock fan. Only sometimes, mind.

“Who are the main characters?”

“Jamie and Claire.” I was re-reading my favourite book series in advance of another instalment due out early next year; so far I was part way through book five of seven.

He frowned a little, clearly puzzled. “Weren’t you reading that months ago?”

“Same series, different book,” I explained.

It always amazed me how he could unravel his long legs and move so quickly and quietly that I barely noticed, but as I looked back up from a quick glance at where I’d laid the book, he was there right in front of me, kneeling on the floor to be at my height.

“Tell me about this Jamie fellow,” he urged, tucking a stray hair behind my ear and sending small shivers down my neck when his fingers lingered there. 

“He’s tall,” I began.

“How tall? I’m tall.”

“Six four.” Ben made a sound like the quiet, experimental trumpeting of a baby elephant. I smiled. “He has flaming red hair.”

“I have red hair. Reddish. Some of the time.” I gave a non-committal hum.

“He’s Scottish,” I continued, “so he has the whole gorgeous accent thing going.”

He looked at me with narrowed eyes, cleared his throat and said, “We walk away from our dreams afraid that we may fail, or worse yet, that we may succeed.” His Sean Connery accent was spot on but I wasn’t quite disposed to telling him that straight away – where’s the fun in that? 

“What kind of accent was that supposed to be?” I asked instead, but oh, it was extremely difficult to keep a straight face when I saw the look on his. 

“That was Sean Connery, you wench,” he spluttered.

“Oh.” Oh God, I love teasing this man. “Okay.” I drew the word out, knowing it sounded sceptical. 

“You really didn’t recognise it?” Oh goodness, his face - I seriously don’t know how much longer I can keep from laughing.

“Not as good as your Lord Rickman of the Alan. Better keep working on that one, love.”

No. No, I can’t do it, I can’t…his woebegone expression made me want to hug him and laugh at the same time – so that’s exactly what I did and of course he then realised that I’d been teasing him all along. 

“Why, you little…”

“Hey, no short jokes!” I interrupted, giggling, which made him laugh too. Somehow or other the laughing turned into kissing, which in turn became something the neighbours definitely shouldn’t see but that just confirmed my opinion that his was a perfectly good couch.

\---

On Thursday night after our gig Patrick asked if he could have a word, so I left the others to finish packing up and headed to his office. I saw Jake glance over but as he wasn’t talking to me much – not ignoring me, just keeping his distance and speaking only when necessary – he didn’t say anything. 

The room held another occupant, a woman I estimated to be in her early- to mid-forties with a short bob of coppery-brown hair, clear blue eyes and the most beautiful translucent skin I had ever seen. She smiled and stood to greet me when I came in and Patrick introduced her as Eleanor McEvoy.

“Eleanor McEvoy? Really? It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m a big fan of your work.” I was stunned and also slightly worried. I had sung two of Eleanor’s songs over the last couple of nights – had she heard and come to complain that I was doing them wrong? As one of Ireland's most accomplished contemporary singer/songwriters, she’d recently released her tenth album and a good number of her songs were on my iTunes playlist.

“Hello Cara, it’s a great pleasure to meet you too and may I just say I’ve become a huge fan of your work.” Umm, what? Am I hearing correctly? She looked to Patrick with a faint smile then back to me. “I’ve been in the audience tonight and last night and I’m very impressed. In fact, I’m hoping you can help me out with something.” I put my hands behind my back and pinched myself just to make sure I wasn’t asleep and dreaming this.

“Oh gosh, I…I’m not singing your songs all wrong am I, because I can change that. Or, just not sing them at all if you think I’m not doing them justice. Really, I don’t want…”

She interrupted me by putting her hands up and laughing. “No, no, it’s not that at all.” I loved her accent. “Relax, really, you sing my songs beautifully. You sing everything beautifully, I’m impressed at how adaptable your voice is, and you seem to suit every genre you tackle.”

“You haven’t heard my punk or rockabilly,” I joke, hoping it will calm my nerves a little. It doesn’t. 

They both laughed. “Perhaps we should sit,” Patrick suggested, “before you ask Cara your favour.” I’d forgotten about that; if it wasn’t to stop singing her songs, what could it be? I sank gratefully on to the wooden chair right behind me and waited to hear what she had to say.

“Cara, I’m doing a gig in Dublin on the tenth of July and my opening act has had to pull out because her husband is seriously ill. I would like you to take her place.”

All right, that is so incredibly far from what I expected. 

“Rick manages our gigs, you should really talk to him.” I was surprised Patrick hadn’t known that. Another look passed between the two of them.

“No, I mean I want you, as a solo act.”

Oh. 

Oh wow.

“The tenth of July is only…”

“Three weeks away. I know. I’m sorry it’s doesn’t give you much notice but you can understand why I’m very keen to find someone as soon as possible.”

“Yes, of course. But I…I’ve never done anything like that Eleanor, I don’t…”

She leaned forward in her seat and looked at me very earnestly. “I appreciate that Cara, but honestly, it’s just singing to a crowd like you do here. A much larger crowd, admittedly, but there’s not a lot of difference in how you approach it. After seeing you interact with the audience here, I have every confidence you’d be just fine. And besides, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

A much larger crowd? Oh Lord.

“Now, I know you’ll want time to think it over, but I do need your answer tomorrow. If you decide to come on board we’ll get together to discuss what I have in mind. Do you have an agent for contracts to be sent to?”

An agent? 

“Um, n-no.”

“Well,” she smiled, “let’s wait and see what you say tomorrow.” She took out a business card and pen, writing her mobile number on the back then handing it to me. “If you could let me know by noon it would be much appreciated. I’m sorry to rush you, but time is of the essence if I want to get the show sorted in time.”

“I understand. Noon is fine.” What are you saying? Why would you tell her noon is fine? How can you possibly decide by then? Are you crazy?

Yes, I am – I’m talking to myself in the third person. Again.


	23. A Complete Mess

All right, Cara, process. This is not a drill - I repeat, this is not a drill.

I can’t do it, I just can’t. Not on my own. I mean, I know I’m the only one that can make the decision in the end, but I need advice and to talk to people and get their opinions, and I have to speak to the guys and get their thoughts because if they don’t approve then the whole idea is dead in the water and any other discussion would be completely moot and – oh, okay, feeling dizzy - I need to breathe. In, out, in, out.

“Where to, love?” Wait, what? Who said that? Taxi driver – how the hell did I get in a taxi when only a second ago I was in Patrick’s office? I shook my head to clear it – much good that did me – but at least it worked to give me access to my address information, which I passed on to the driver in a voice that sounded small and squeaky. No, don’t even start to think about what would happen if that were the voice that came out of me in front of hundreds of people. No! Don’t think it, I said! Oh good Lord.

What was that breathing pattern again? Oh yes; in, out, in…

Focus. I need to focus. Actually, I feel like I need Valium. I waste a few precious moments wondering how and where to get some at this time of night, or if I know anyone who would have some. And now I think about it…no, it’s way too late to visit anyone – check watch; yes, it’s half after midnight – but I could contact the guys, they’ll still be awake. I rang Rick first and explained it to him, not entirely sure if I felt relieved or more anxious after he congratulated me and told me to go for it. Marcus’s reaction was pretty much the same but I hesitated before calling Jake and at that point we arrived at my flat. Thanking and paying the driver, I hauled myself out of there and down the path, unlocking my door and entering in something of a daze.

A vision appeared in front of my eyes of me on stage in front of a large number of people. ‘A much larger crowd’ Eleanor had said – why didn’t I think to ask her how many tickets had been sold? Or even where the venue was, that would give me an idea; is it a pub or small theatre or – God forbid – large stadium? No, it can’t be a pub; she wouldn’t need an opening act for that. Oh, heck, where were the aliens when you need to be abducted? Or the SS Enterprise when you want to be beamed up, Scotty? 

Hey, I finally made a Star Trek reference instead of Star Wars! I must tell Ben. Should I call him? No, I’d rather tell him in person. Not the Star Trek thing, the Eleanor thing. You knew that already, right? Okay. Plus, I’m pretty sure I know what he would say anyway.

You’re procrastinating, Cara, you have to call Jake. Do not put it off. Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200. Dammit.

“Hey.” Well, that’s a good start; at least he’s talking to me. For now.

“Hey Jake. Sorry to call so late, but I…um…I have something I need to run by you.” I paused to allow a response but there wasn’t one. Great. “I need you to be totally honest – no holes barred, just tell me exactly how you feel about it, okay?”

“Sure.”

If I’m being honest, I had fully expected him to (a) be totally opposed to the idea and (b) tell me I was being selfish to even think of doing something on my own without the three of them. No, wait – maybe that’s just me projecting my own thoughts on to him. Well, anyway, the point is, I was completely taken aback by what he actually did say.

“Cara, why are you hesitating for even one second? You should have told her yes the instant she asked you.”

“What?”

“This is an amazing opportunity for you and you totally deserve it. I don’t understand why you’re stalling.”

What?

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend Jake?” I’m only half joking. 

“Maybe I’ve been listening to some advice I was given recently, about caring more about someone else rather than myself.” That slug hit me right in the chest. Oh jeez.

“Jake…”

“I gotta go. Do it Cara.” And with that, he disconnected and I was left with my mouth wide open in shock, holding a silent phone to my ear. 

Well, heck.

\---

After a restless night tossing and turning, I go to the wisest person I know.

“It is singing, cara mia, you’ve been doing that your whole life. Our Heavenly Father would not have gifted you with that voice if He did not intend for you to sing.”

“Singing to small audiences, sure. Does He intend for me to sing to hundreds?” The thought makes me come out in goose bumps.

“You sang at your cousin Mario’s wedding; that was three hundred people.”

“They were family, nonna, they wouldn’t boo me if I sang off-key or forgot the words.” Well, my side of the family wouldn’t have; the bride’s relatives were a whole other matter.

“Is that what you are afraid of child – failing? Or are you afraid that you will not fail?” 

Her words sounded eerily familiar. “Have you been talking to Sean Connery, nonna?”

“Eh?”

“Niente.” (Nothing.)

We were in the kitchen of my grandparents’ flat; nonna was washing up the breakfast things and I was drying and putting away. The rhythmic familiarity of that routine household chore would normally have been soothing, but today there was just too much on my mind. 

Okay, time for a pros and cons list. Starting the cons list is easy; fear of failure is numero uno. I ponder nonna’s words and wonder if I should put fear of success on there as well. Ben had asked me once if I wouldn’t like to be more successful and sing to larger audiences and I’d avoided the question – now the opportunity was right in front of me and I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

I am a creature of habit. I like being close to my family and up until the whole debacle with Jake, I had been enjoying the friendship I had with the guys as well. Playing at Donoghues and Bob’s every week was familiar and easy. It was safe.

Well, seriously Cara, what do you expect? You’ve been playing it safe most of your life, sticking with the familiar – and you don’t need a shrink to know the reason why. 

I sighed. No, I know only too well why I have felt uncertain and insecure about change since I was a child. More specifically, since the day my mother walked out our door without a single backward glance.

I headed home with only two hours until I needed to let Eleanor know my decision. My nonna’s parting words were still ringing in my ears as I sat on the train, “Cara, is it better to regret failing or to regret never having the courage to try at all? This is your decision, cara mia, you must do what it is your heart tells you to do, and then you must live with your decision. Ti amo. Ho fede in te.” (I love you. I have faith in you.)

Once home, I paced the floor for an hour before I finally dug the business card out of my bag and called Eleanor.


	24. All For One

The next hour was spent so far out of my comfort zone I felt I should have worn a sign around my neck, held on with a piece of string, that said 'Completely Lost. If found please return to Cara de Luca. Reward offered.' Except there wouldn't really be a reward, as I had nothing I could offer - maybe a guitar lesson would do? Or some of nonna's cannoli?

I met with Eleanor to get more details of the gig. She gave me a contract, advising me to have my lawyer look at it before signing, as I didn't have a manager or agent. My payment would be minimal, probably barely enough to cover costs of transport and accommodation, but I had already decided this was worth doing for the experience alone. Of course, I'd miss a night with the band and my lessons as well, so I'd have to dig into my savings for next month's rent, but I would worry about that later - right now my head was swimming.

"You'll have thirty minutes," Eleanor said. "And what do you think of us doing a song together some time in the evening? I'm not sure when, we can decide once we pick something."

Seriously? Set phasers to stun! "I'd love to," I told her in the understatement of the month - maybe year. No, century.

"I'm staying in London until Tuesday, so let's both think of a few choices and maybe we could get together before then, run through them and see what we like - how does that sound?" I nodded agreement, still dumbfounded at the notion. I love this woman, I really do. We arranged for her to come to my place on Sunday - Cliff, the old guy who lives next door, is half deaf so my playing never disturbs him, and my upstairs neighbours are away at the moment - then I had to get back home for my afternoon lessons.

\---

"What did you decide?" "Are you going to do it?" Rick and Marcus asked me at the same time when I arrived at Bob's that night, then gave a whoop and fist pump when I said yes. We entered the pub in jovial mood and chatted madly as we set everything up.

"We want to come with you," Rick said, stunning me, "We want to be there to play for you, rather than you using Eleanor's band."

"It makes sense," Marcus added, "We know all the songs and we know your voice and what key suits you."

"And we have the opportunity to get plenty of practice beforehand and make any changes you want."

"Guys, I..." I stood with my mouth open like a guppy, looking from one to the other. "No, you...Eleanor can't pay you...you'd miss a night at Donoghue's..."

"The money doesn't matter," Marcus assured me.

"We have day jobs Cara," Rick reminded me, "We're not as dependent on the gigs as you are. We're not expecting to be paid, we want to do it for you."

I couldn't help it; I teared up. "Oh shit, now I'm crying!"

They came closer and hugged me, chuckling at my emotional display. "So that's a yes, right?" Marcus asked.

"Are you sure? It's a Wednesday night, you'd have to take a couple of days off work and we'd have to find a replacement band for Patrick here, and..."

"Hey, it's all doable Cara, stop worrying." Rick looked at Marcus then back at me. "Just say yes already."

I hugged them tightly and managed to say yes as more tears fell; they laughed and sent me off to the ladies to fix my face while they finished setting up. When I came back Jake had arrived and things were a lot more subdued.

"Hey," he greeted me, not quite making eye contact.

"Hey," I replied, feeling awkward. "Um, thanks for the advice last night." Naturally, me being me, I began rambling. "I decided to do it, the gig with Eleanor I mean. I met with her today; she's pretty amazing. She even wants us to do a song together, so that's, you know... Now I just have to decide what I'm going to sing...and hope I don't freeze up or come out all squeaky and sounding like a chipmunk who sucked on a helium balloon..."

He put me out of my misery, thankfully, by replying succinctly, "Yeah, great. Good."

I sighed, smiling gratefully at Rick when he squeezed my arm as he passed. "Enough chit chat you two," he said drily, rolling his eyes, "we're about to start." We all got into place and when Marcus played the opening bars on keyboard, we began the set with Lana Del Rey's Video Games.

\---

Ben rang just before my first student arrived on Saturday morning. "Good morning beautiful. I miss you, when am I going to see you?"

"I've missed you too my handsome Busybatch," I knew he'd hear the smile in my voice. He had been working long hours recording Neverwhere and working on post-production of Little Favour. "This weekend is rather hectic but I think I can fit you into my schedule for dinner tomorrow night if that suits?" Last night the guys and I had arranged to get together this afternoon and work on songs for my Dublin gig, and I wasn't sure how long I'd be with Eleanor tomorrow, so figured planning for the evening was safest.

"I'll take it. What's keeping you from me all weekend? Is everything okay?"

"Everything is just hunky-dory, Calldispatch. I'll tell you all about it when I see you."

He laughed at my name parody. "All right then. How about I bring some ingredients over and cook for you?"

"Do that and I'll provide dessert." I tried to sound flirty and suggestive, not sure it was working until Ben's growling response sent shivers down my spine - in a good way.

"God, Cara, don't say things like that when I have to wait another thirty hours." It was beginning to sound like torture to me too. I caught my breath - and the side of the bench - when he asked, "Shall I bring your maid's outfit with me?"

"Ben..." Clenching. Shaking. Knees weak. Lacking oxygen. Oh God. A knock sounded at the door. "Uhh...Alex is here, I...I have to go, but...yes...to your question." His groan was so damn sexy I nearly melted into a puddle right there and then. How I managed to bid him goodbye and make it to the door is beyond me.

Lessons progressed as usual for the next three hours then, after grabbing a quick bite to eat, I headed off to meet Rick and Marcus.

"I've only got half an hour," I told them, "so I don't want to chop and change about with too many different genres. Eleanor's style is folk-rock and while I don't want to poach, I'm thinking that sticking fairly close to that will appeal to the audience."

"Fair point," Rick agreed.

"So I was thinking folksy country and pop."

"You're going to do a couple of your own songs aren't you?"

"I'd like to; should I?" They both agreed I should, so the first songs we picked were two of mine then we concentrated on those of other artists. Once we had half a dozen we began playing with arrangements, giving them a heavily acoustic sound then bringing in drums and keyboard as needed.

Jake's arrival reminded us we had practice for our gig that night so we started putting scores away. "What are you guys doing?" He wanted to know when he found us all there early.

"We've been practising for Cara's Dublin gig," Rick told him. "We're going with her dude, so we'll need to sort something out for Donoghue's that night."

I caught a fleeting glimpse of something on Jake's face before he hung his head - was that sadness? Disappointment? Did he feel left out? It was so difficult to tell with him these days. He simply nodded and muttered something that sounded like "Okay" before putting his guitar on and turning to the set list. I exchanged glances with the other two but nobody spoke a word as we got ready; the air felt uncomfortable but I wasn't sure it was my place to say anything. Damn Jake and his declaration of love! Why couldn't he have kept it to himself? Or told me sooner, before...hold on, what? What? Where the hell did that come from? Oh no. No, no, no. Cara, you cannot mean...you can't possibly...what are you thinking, woman? Shit!

"Cara?" Rick's voice jolted me away from my disturbing thoughts. "Are you okay?" Am I? I'm not sure that I know. I blink once, twice, knowing I need to answer but feeling like my brain is wrapped in cotton wool or thick insulation or...dammit, pull yourself together!

"Yeah," I croak, then clear my throat, avoiding everyone's eyes. "Fine." Rick gives me a look that I just catch the edge of before hastily giving my attention to the sheet of music in front of me and we all settle into place and begin our practice.


	25. Awakenings

By the time we finished I was having trouble stifling yawns, lack of sleep finally catching up with me. As we began to pack up my mouth opened in a yawn so wide I felt and heard a cracking in my jaw.

"Tired much Cara?" Marcus teased.

"I didn't sleep well the last couple of nights," I admitted.

"Why don't you head off home then, we've got this," Rick offered.

"Thanks guys, I think I will if you're sure you don't mind." They assured me it was fine so I wished them all goodnight and after waving a farewell to Bob, headed out the door. Taking my phone out to check for messages, I saw one from Ben. Can I give you a lift home? I rang him immediately. "You're here?"

"Usual place," he replied, so I turned to head to the quiet spot where he normally parked the Jag. He got out of the car as I approached and stepped towards me; I wanted to fling myself into his arms but was hesitant when I saw how well turned out he was.

"I don't want to mess with the tux," I told him, smiling, when he stood there with his arms open.

"Bugger the tux, come here woman!" he growled, so I laughed and wrapped my arms around his waist as his tightened around me. His kiss left me in no doubt at all that he was pleased to see me. Very pleased, in fact.

"So your fancy schmancy dinner thing finished early?" I asked once I had breath again.

"No, it's still going, but I kept thinking of you and wasn't enjoying myself."

I gave him a look, laughing as I teased him, "I hope that didn't come out right."

He grinned. "It didn't come out right at all, but you know what I mean."

"Do I? I'm afraid I'm feeling particularly obtuse this evening, Cucumberpatch, you're going to have to spell it out for me, syllable by syllable."

He growled again - which is, by the way, one of the sexiest sounds I have ever heard - and kissed me so hard I was surprised to find myself still standing when it was over. Maybe I was getting better at this.

"Okay," I panted, "I think I understand perfectly."

"Good." His breathing was a little uneven too. "Can we go now?"

I nodded, leaving his embrace very reluctantly but telling myself once we were home we could pick up right here again, and got in the door he opened for me. "Home James!" I giggled as he started the engine. He shot me a look then smilingly concentrated on the road again and I snuggled into the seat to get comfy, thinking how calming and relaxing the purr of the engine was.

The next thing I was aware of was being carried in strong arms then placed gently down on something soft and warm; my shoes were removed and more soft warm things placed over me. I turned to my side, sighing contentedly as I snuggled again.

\---

I woke slowly, becoming aware of sounds around me - an owl hooting in the trees outside, traffic passing by on the street, and someone breathing slowly and steadily behind me - while my eyes remained closed and my limbs felt too heavy to move. Something warm and firm was wrapped around me; I was pretty sure it was benign. All's good, I thought, and allowed myself to drift off again.

Next time I woke much quicker and was instantly more alert, aware that the pillow under my head was rising and falling regularly. Opening my eyes I discovered I was wrapped around Ben, my head nestled on his shoulder. The amount and quality of light in the room indicated it was early morning still and when I sat up slightly to look at my bedside clock it confirmed the time as four thirty. Peeling back the covers slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him, I went to the bathroom to answer a call of nature then brushed my teeth and removed the clothes I was still wearing from last night. As I padded quietly back to the bedroom I saw my handbag and keys on the table together with dark objects I assumed to be Ben's jacket and bowtie. His white shirt and trousers were on the chair next to the bed, I noticed, slipping back in beside him.

He stirred, the whites of his eyes glowing softly in the minimal light. "Hey."

"Hey," I whispered back. "Sorry I fell asleep on you last night."

"That's okay," he murmured, reaching for me and wrapping me in his arms again, kissing the top of my head. "You must have been completely worn out."

"Mmm," I pressed a kiss to the base of his neck. "I was...but I'm not now."

"No?" I continued placing light kisses along his neck and jaw, waiting for him to click. "Oh! No? Well, I'm...I'm not worn out either." His hands began tracing whorls down my back and hips as if in confirmation, sending tingles shooting throughout my body.

"Well, whatever are we going to do with all this energy then?" I wondered out loud.

Don't worry, we did think of something that used up rather a lot of energy. Twice.

When I woke the third time light was flooding the room and I could hear birds chirruping happily outside. Rubbing my eyes, I looked to my clock, horrified when I saw the time. "Maledizione!" It was eight forty; Eleanor would be here at nine. (Bloody hell!)

Leaping out of bed, I raced for the bathroom and took what I am pretty sure is the quickest shower of my life, returning to the bedroom to find Ben sitting up rubbing his eyes sleepily. "You have to get up and dressed!" I told him as I ripped drawers open to choose clothes to put on. "She'll be here in ten minutes."

"Who?"

Dammit man, that sexy sleepy voice is not allowed this morning! "Eleanor!"

I could see him thinking for a minute as I put my underclothes on, then he shook his head in confusion. "Who's Eleanor?"

I pulled my t-shirt down over my torso, thrust my legs into my jeans and stepped towards him, taking his face in my hands and kissing his mouth. "No time to explain now, sweetie, I'll tell you everything tonight; just please get dressed."

He did, while I brushed and braided my hair then went looking for the sheet music I had put aside for today. Suddenly I realised I couldn't see my guitar anywhere and started to panic - had I left it at the pub last night? Or had Rick taken it with the other equipment?

"Ben? Did I have my guitar with me when we came home last night?" I almost walked right into him as he emerged from the bathroom looking just as delicious in his black trousers and white shirt as he had in the full tux. Oh, all right, not as delicious, but pretty darn close.

"It's still in the car, love. I couldn't carry both of you, I'm afraid, so I went with the more delectable option." His cheeky grin was almost my undoing but I had to concentrate - Eleanor would be here any minute. "I'll go and get it."

I thrust his jacket and tie in his hands once he'd brought my guitar, kissed him quickly and firmly and said, "Now get that gorgeously adorable but instantly recognisable face out of here, Cumbers."

"All right beautiful. I'll see you tonight." His farewell kiss conjured visions in my head of our nocturnal activities. Oh God! How am I supposed to concentrate on work with those images behind my eyelids? From the chuckles as he left I assumed he knew what effect he'd had on me and I groaned. Have I time for another quick shower - a really, really cold one?

\---

"Well, I think we've got everything sorted." Eleanor and I had been working for hours but had covered a lot of ground. She'd okayed the guys coming with me as my band, approved my ideas for songs - although that wasn't strictly necessary, as someone new to this I was happy she was happy - and we had chosen, arranged and rehearsed a song to sing together, deciding it would be at the end of my set just before the break.

My uncle Dominic - a lawyer - had looked over the contract for me, so I was able to give it to her signed. An official announcement of the change in opening act would be made tomorrow and we would be meeting then for some publicity photographs to be taken.

"You'll have a sound check to do some time in the afternoon, but someone will be in touch before then and confirm a time. I'd like us to do a run through of this song again before the night too, so I'll slot that in once I know your timing."

"Sounds great," I replied.

"Can you email me the details of where you'll be staying and your arrival date? Oh, and the names of the guys in your band so backstage passes can be organised."

"Will do." I added that to the notes I'd been making.

"Cara, do you have questions or worries or anything at all you'd like to ask?" I thought over everything she'd told me, searching for a detail my mind may have missed but would want to know the second she had left, but couldn't come up with a single one. "The theatre is very intimate," she continued, "so it will just be like an extension of performing in a pub."

Yeah, that's easy for you to say. The Trinity Theatre held 1500 people apparently - and the number of tickets sold numbered almost that many - so it was going to be quite an extension.

"No, I haven't any questions at this stage. Thank you so much for explaining everything so well."

"We've all been first timers at some point - I can still recall my first night as an opening act, so I know exactly what you're going through and if I can help at all, please just pick up the phone and call me."

"Thanks, I appreciate that."

"Okay, well, in that case, I'll pack up my stuff and get out of your hair. Didn't you say you've got a date tonight?"

"I do, but you don't have to rush off..." I saw a grin on her face and realised she was teasing me, so I laughed. "So that's how we're playing it, is it?"

She laughed with me. "Would that be the handsome gentleman I saw leaving here as I was arriving this morning?" Oh God, she saw him? She had knocked on the door only minutes after Ben had driven off. My consternation must have shown on my face, as she patted my hand reassuringly and said, "Don't worry, I won't breathe a word. I understand how difficult it can be to live in a goldfish bowl."

I met her eyes and knew she was being sincere. "Thank you Eleanor."

"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

A few minutes later she was gone and I heaved a huge sigh. Well, no turning back now. For some reason a line from a children's show my nephew watched popped into my mind - one of the characters said, 'Can we fix it?' and while another positive character answered 'Yes we can!' a third, less confident one muttered, 'Ah...yeah, I think so.' That felt like me right now: Can I do this? Yeah...I think so.

\---

"Let me help you."

"Absolutely not."

I had told Ben everything over dinner - Eleanor, the gig, the guys coming with me - and that I'd need to find some extra work to make up for missing a night's income. He had instantly offered to give me the money I needed.

"Please love, it's less than an hour's pay on a movie set..."

"Ben, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I won't take your money."

"Why not?"

"Because I won't be someone who sponges off their boyfriend."

"It's hardly sponging, Cara, it's a small one-time gift. If the situation were reversed you would make the offer to me wouldn't you?"

"Yes of course."

"Well then."

"But I would also understand if you turned my offer down."

"Dammit woman!" He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

I smiled, stepping much closer to him and wrapping my arms around his waist as I pressed a soft kiss to the edge of his mouth. "I love you."

His arms automatically went around me but he only mumbled an unintelligible response.

"This is where you say you love me too, Cumbers," I prompted, kissing the other side of his mouth. When he still made no reply I pecked the tip of his nose. "Berry-topped Crumble Bake." I could have sworn I saw a twitch at the edge of his mouth and a tiny gleam in his eyes, though they were half hidden by his lids. "Bonbon-decked Custard Tart...Butter-dipped Crumpet Bites." At that point he burst out laughing and I grinned even as I inwardly gasped at how damn gorgeous his face was at that moment - every laughter line, every wrinkle, every twisted up lip and chin a thing of sheer beauty, for they reflected the soul of the man and that, to me, was the most beautiful thing on God's earth.

"I do love you, you impudent, adorable wench."

"That's my boy!" Which only caused him to laugh again - and that was kind of the point, really.


	26. What If

"Is Jake going to Dublin as well?"

And just like that, the thoughts that I had firmly and determinedly pushed out of my mind since Saturday afternoon resurfaced.

"No."

The fact that I had thought about what might have happened had Jake declared his feelings for me sooner, before I met Ben, confused me and I still wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"Cara?"

I realised I'd missed something Ben had said. "Sorry?"

"I asked if you want Jake to be there."

Well, that's the sixty four thousand pound question. "Professionally," I began, after a moment's thought, "yes; another set of strings would round out the sound nicely, especially on a couple of songs." Don't ask the next question, Ben, please. Don't ask.

"And personally?" Dammit, you asked.

So what did I do? I hesitated, that's what. Not the best idea I've ever had. "I...I don't know."

Ben sat up straighter in his chair and fixed an inscrutable look on his face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It's not supposed to mean anything; what is does mean is that I don't know if I want him there or not. You asked, I answered." Keep it cool, Cara, you don't need to be having an argument about this. We were - or had been, up until that point - enjoying a cup of tea after I'd whipped us up my favourite breakfast; ironically, eggs Benedict. Outside it looked like becoming a warm, sunny day but the temperature in here had turned decidedly chilly in the last few seconds.

His cup clattered back into the saucer, making me wince. His face remained impassive. "I see."

Feel free to enlighten me, then, because I have no idea. "Ben..."

His chair scraped back and he took his dirty dishes over to the sink, muttering, "I have to get to work."

Oh crap. I stood up as well. "What do you want me to say? That I don't want him there because the situation between us is still awkward? Yes, that's true. Or that I do want him there because he's one of my oldest friends and his support would mean a lot? That's true too. So the answer to your question is exactly what I said, because right now I'm confused. I promised you honesty and that's what you got."

Liar, liar, pants on fire! Well, not lying exactly but certainly not telling the complete truth about what was confusing me right now. My head was thumping with the huge battle being waged inside it, my conscience telling me I should uphold my promise while every instinct I had was screaming 'Danger, Will Robinson!'

I did at least have enough sense to realise that I had sounded angry or defensive or some combination of both. Back up girl! "That may have sounded a little...snarky. I didn't mean it to be, I'm sorry. You asked a perfectly valid question."

The glance he threw me was impossible to interpret, his nod neither conciliatory nor dismissive. "Okay," was all he said as he continued collecting his things.

I sighed inwardly, casting around in my head for something else to say and walking after him as he opened the door. "Ben..." He turned and I raked my eyes over his face, trying to get even a hint of what he was thinking or feeling but dammit, the man is not a world-class actor for nothing; I couldn't read his expression at all. I sighed again. "I love you."

"I know," he said, and I barely had time to think 'Star Wars reference!' before he was striding down the path and away from me.

Without saying it back.

\--

"To your right now please."

This was my first experience with promo photo shoots so I felt rather like a duck out of water. They'd taken a screed of shots of Eleanor and I together, both with and without our guitars, now I was left to do solo shots. We'd done some standing and at the moment I was sitting on a stool with my guitar, a fake background behind me and a dummy mic in front.

"Now could you pretend to play and sing something?"

"Is it okay if I actually play and sing? I'm not used to only pretending to do it."

"Sure. Whatever."

What a relief; at least that would feel natural. I started strumming the first song that came into my head - an Adele tune - completely ignoring the camera and just letting myself get involved in the words and melody. I was barely a quarter of the way through when the photographer called a halt, saying he had all he wanted.

I packed my guitar away, thanked everyone and left to catch the Tube to nonna's place, Ben and Jake on my mind the whole way.

"Ciao nonna," I greeted her when she opened the door.

"Cara, mio caro." As usual I was enveloped in her warm hug. "Come in, child. You will stay for pranzo?" she asked; lunch was always served punctually at one o'clock and it was quarter to now. The smell of her eggplant lasagna had teased my nostrils as I came up the stairs.

"Si, I'd love to, if you have enough." I only said that out of courtesy; I could probably show up with half a dozen friends and there would still be enough food to go around. In fact, I think both of my brothers have, at some stage, shown up with half a dozen friends at mealtime.

"Of course, child, of course, there is plenty of food." She bustled around, putting finishing touches to a salad. "How is Benedict?" she asked as I began setting the table.

God, I wish I knew. "He's fine."

"What does he work on now?" That at least I could talk of with confidence.

"He's doing a number of radio shows at the moment and his production company have just finished making their first short film, so they are editing that." I was setting for four, knowing that Marco would come upstairs for lunch and leave his assistant in charge for a short time.

"And what did you decide about the music concert with the Irish lady?"

"I'm doing it."

She turned to smile at me and I looked back at the woman who had pretty much raised me after my mother left. Her hair appeared whiter than on my last visit, the skin on her face and hands more wrinkled, her shoulders a little more stooped - but there was still about her an air of liveliness and vitality, a passionate interest in all that went on around her, most especially where it concerned her family. "Quello è buono," she said, "Sono contento." (That's good, I'm glad.)

At that moment nonno and my brother arrived and after greetings were exchanged we sat down to eat. Marco said grace then as nonna served, nonno asked me about the Dublin gig, so I gave them an update on all that had been happening.

"Fifteen hundred people?" Marco asked. "That's a lot; are you nervous?"

Well thanks, Marco, like I needed a reminder about that. "What do you think?" I gave him a sardonic look but he just grinned then completely flummoxed me with his next comment.

"Don't sweat it, sis, you'll be fine. You're a great singer."

"Thanks," I managed, through the lump I discovered in my throat.

When the meal finished Marco went back to the shop and I offered to help nonna with washing up, but she shooed me into the lounge to have coffee with nonno and I saw them exchange a look. As we sat he said, "There is something troubling you, cara mia?" I had long since given up wondering how my grandparents could tell so easily when I had something on my mind. I explained about Jake and how I had been struggling with the 'what if' scenario.

"Piccolo, throughout our journey in life we come to un bivio - a crossroads - where we must choose to go this way or that. Do we take this path; do we take the other? Each choice affects everything that follows, yes? But they are always our choices. With Our Lord's guidance and blessing, of course."

I thanked him and shortly after bid my farewells, as I had lessons to teach. Heading home I gave his words some thought and it slowly dawned on me that I was wasting my time wondering what might have happened, I had only to be concerned with what did. Jake made the choice not to tell me how he felt when I was free and now that is something he has to live with. Meanwhile, I went down a path that led me to Ben and it was as simple as accepting that that was where my choices had taken me.

Am I happy with the path that led me to him? Oh God yes.

\---

At seven thirty I met with Marcus and Rick for another rehearsal for Dublin. Our rehearsal space was the garage at Rick's parents' house as they had no car, luckily and we just brought our instruments with us each time. Centrally located to all four of us, it was the perfect space and the neighbours had long since gotten used to our sound.

"Let's start with 'I'll be your baby tonight'," I said, once we had set up, "I'd like to tweak the piano and bass, Marcus - more Damien Leith than Norah Jones, but keep Norah's tempo and poignancy. Can we give that a try?"

I began the intro on my guitar and we went through it a few times until I was happy with it, then I gave them the sheet music for the song Eleanor and I would be singing together and we looked through that, playing bits here and there, each of us suggesting changes before we put them together in a trial run.

All the while at the back of my mind was the thought that I hadn't yet heard from Ben. Now that I was settled in my own mind I needed to know what the hell this morning had been all about.


	27. Humpty Dumpty

Once again I found myself pacing back and forth outside Ben's building, but this time I had the cover of darkness and was pretty sure he wouldn't see me if he happened to be looking out his window. That same window glowed with light, so I knew he was still up although it was almost eleven.

Well, come on, are you going up there or not? Make up your mind Cara; either get up there now and find out what's wrong or go home and have a sleepless night worrying. Crap - couldn't there be a third choice, like wake up and find this is all a bad dream? Yes, I like the sound of that one, let's go with that.

If only it were that easy.

Isn't there a saying that nothing worthwhile is easy? What little ray of sunshine thought that one up, seriously? I hope they ended up in a straightjacket having a frontal lobotomy like McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

"Maledizione!" I slapped my hands against my thighs, turned and headed into the building and up the stairs. Once I got to Ben's flat I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, annoyed when I realized I was holding the breath I had taken, so let it out in a noisy whoosh just as the door was opened.

He looked good; form-fitting jeans, snug tee, mussed hair and a half-drunk glass of whiskey in his hand. In other words, a force ten slug right in the ovaries. Give me a break.

"Hi." Deep voice too. So not fair.

"H-hi," was my articulate reply.

"I didn't realize you were coming over...Tom's here."

"I'll...I'll come back another time." I'd barely turned to head back down the stairs when his hand wrapped gently around my arm, his thumb rubbing circles over my wrist that caused a shiver or two.

"Cara, don't go, please." I paused, which I knew even as I did it, was my undoing. "Come in." As he said it his hand slid down to mine, tugging me gently in to his flat. I could have resisted if I'd wanted to. Really.

He led me to the lounge room where Tom rose to his feet when he saw me. "Hello Cara."

"Hi Tom." I wasn't sure what to do next, so stood there quietly. No, this isn't awkward at all.

I looked at Ben, who looked back at me.

"Well, I have to be going," Tom announced briskly, downing the remainder of his drink and placing the glass on the coffee table. He took my spare hand and kissed it, saying, "Lovely to see you again." Slapping Ben on the shoulder, he added, "I can see myself out," and was gone before I could even begin to apologise for interrupting their evening.

Now what?

I looked at Ben again. He still had hold of my hand and used it now to pull me closer, kissing my forehead. "I'm so sorry about this morning."

I let out a small sigh, moving my hands to his chest as his arms wrapped around me. "What was that exactly?"

"That was me being jealous and insecure and a bit of a prat."

Well, I can't argue with that. "Jealous of what? I told you Jake's not coming to Dublin."

He grimaced, his fingers tucking a stray hair behind my ear and sending tingles everywhere. "I know, it was just...when you said you wanted him there and I thought he might try to make a move on you again."

I stepped back, removing his arms from around me and looking at his face. He frowned at my retreat. "Is that all?" I asked, suddenly even more afraid of what this meant.

His frown deepened and he tried to touch me, but again I stepped back. "What do you mean? Isn't that enough?"

"I mean were you worried he would try it on or were you worried he would succeed?"

"Does it make a difference?" I felt chilled all over.

"Yes, Benedict, it does make quite a big difference. Being worried Jake might try something means it's him you don't trust. But as it takes two to tango, being worried that he might succeed means you don't trust me either."

There was a tension filled silence as we stared at each other while he pondered my words but after thirty seconds I couldn't take it any more. The fact that he hadn't said a word spoke volumes and I knew I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Luckily, I was standing much closer to the door than he was, so I turned and left as fast as I could, getting halfway down the stairs before he even called out to me. I didn't make the mistake of pausing this time. As I stumbled along the road I heard him right behind me.

"Cara, stop, please love."

I couldn't; I knew I was on the verge of breaking down completely and had no intention of doing that in front of him, so I just shook my head and broke into a run. There were two people just getting out of a taxi only a few feet in front of me; I threw myself in it as I heard them whisper Ben's name and prayed they would ask him for selfies. Averting my gaze as the taxi drove past him, I waited until we were out of his street then I let the tears fall.

\---

The next door I knocked on was four flights up and I could hear Florence and the Machine playing inside.

"Cara. Hey."

"Will you come to Dublin and be in my band?" I must have been a sight - I had no doubt my eyes would be red-rimmed and puffy and I'd have tear tracks down my cheeks. My nose was certainly in need of a good blow. I didn't care. "Please Jake."

"I'd like to but...I just bought a new bass guitar, a Squier vintage modified, so...I can't afford it. I'm going to be living off tinned sardines and baked beans for a few weeks as it is. I'm sorry."

"Okay. Doesn't matter. Thanks." Great, that tops off my evening from hell just perfectly.

\---

By morning I had ten text messages and five missed calls from Ben and my face looked terrible after a night of weeping. I deleted the texts without reading them then turned my phone off. At seven o'clock I was in a double arm headstand, hoping yoga might help me find some calmness, when there was a knock on my door; I moved to a forearm headstand and waited, holding my breath.

Another knock sounded, then a familiar voice. I got myself upright again and opened up.

"Marco, what...oh, hey guys." Marco had with him Gabriela and Carlo, Tony's two eldest children. We greeted each other with hugs and kisses and I took Gaby out of her stroller to hold her while I talked with Marco.

"Tony's been trying to call you - what's the matter with your phone?" Marco wheeled the stroller in to my flat, pushing Carlo in front of him.

"Oh, um...I must have forgotten to turn it back on." I crossed my fingers behind Gaby's back. "Why, what's up?"

"Matteo is sick and Tony and Maria are taking him to the hospital. They're hoping you can look after these two for the day."

"Sure, no problem," I told him. "What's wrong with the baby? Is he going to be okay?"

"I think there's the possibility of whooping cough," he told me in a low voice, "apparently it's doing the rounds." Then he took a good look at my face. "You've been crying. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," I lied. I knew I should have put some makeup on.

"You're not fine."

"Don't you have to get to the shop?"

He narrowed his eyes at me but decided either that getting to work was more pressing or that he knew he wouldn't get any more out of me; he merely grunted and gave me the bag with the kids' stuff in it.

I promised to turn my phone back on and told him to keep in touch and let me know how Matteo was doing, then he left and I turned my attention to Gaby and Carlo. At three and four, they were usually a bundle of energy but seemed very subdued right now. Crouching down to Carlo's level, I told them the doctors and nurses would do everything they could to make their baby brother well again soon, then said, "Come on, how about we make pancakes for breakfast?"

After eating and cleaning up we went out to the park, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air and open spaces - my little flat got a bit crowded with three people in it, particularly when two of them could barely keep still for more than five seconds. As children do, they perked up quite quickly and were more like their usual rambunctious selves. Throughout the morning I kept checking my phone to see if Ben had sent any more texts. He hadn't - not that I wanted him to, of course - I just wanted to know if I had to delete any more. Tony rang to say Matteo had a bad chest infection but not whooping cough, which was a great relief. He had been started on intravenous antibiotics and Maria would stay overnight in the hospital with him while Tony came home to look after Gaby and Carlo.

"What time do you need me to come take them off your hands?" he asked.

"I've got my lessons from three till five but I can hold off Gaby's nap until then if need be. Would Carlo be happy watching cartoons or a movie?"

"Sure, but only for half an hour or so. How about you put Gaby down around one and I'll try to get there before three?"

"Okay. Give my love to Maria. See you later."

"Grazie Cara."

\---

Tony had come and gone, taking the kids with him. My students had likewise had their lessons and departed and now I was left alone with my thoughts, definitely not something I was clamouring for. The necessity to do things had kept me going all day and I was feeling the absence of it keenly; I had a couple of hours to spare until I was to meet with Rick and Marcus for another practice session. I put my head back and closed my eyes, which seemed to give my memories permission to come rolling in like waves on the beach.

Ben. Even thinking his name intensifies the ache in my heart and I long to be with him but I can't, not without trust. Whether that's a legacy from my mother leaving or from something else, I neither know nor care, but I'm completely certain that no matter how much I love him, we can't have a real relationship if he doesn't trust me. It's as simple as that; only it's not simple at all. Feeling the telltale prickling behind my eyelids, I head to the shower, where my tears can at least mingle with the soothing water.

I am Humpty Dumpty, balancing precariously on the wall, aware that the slightest thing could topple me over to break into thousands of pieces. I feel close to it, so very close. Right now my heart is held together with a wing and a prayer.

\---

"I'm thinking this song can be my final one, before the duet with Eleanor." I handed out copies to Rick and Marcus.

"This a new one?" Marcus asked.

I nodded. "I wrote it last week. How about I start and you just pick up wherever you like and then we can look at the arrangement?"

"Okay, sure."

I was picking through the first couple of chords when the garage door opened and I stopped in surprise when I saw who'd come in. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," drawled Jake, "I figured if I'm going to play for you in Dublin I should come learn the songs."


	28. Curiosity Killed the Cat

"I thought you couldn't afford to come?" I was stunned that Jake was here.

He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "I'll find the money somehow." His eyes weren't meeting mine, but that was standard lately so I thought no more of it.

Quickly whipping the strap over my head, I put my guitar down and stepped forward to give him a hug. "Thank you."

"No worries." His arm was around me for perhaps a second too long but I ignored it, grateful that he was here and willing to help.

Once he had his instruments ready we got started and had a solid four hours practice in before I had to call it a night, completely worn out by lack of sleep and emotional turmoil. As we were packing up Jake offered me a ride home and when I hesitated he pointed out, "You can fill me in on what the other songs are and where you want any backing vocals." It was a good idea but as I opened my mouth to respond, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket.

"Tony, what's wrong?" My brother wouldn't be ringing me at this time of night for a social chitchat.

"Matteo's had a seizure; I need to get to the hospital. Can you come here to be with Gaby and Carlo?"

"Of course - I'm only a few blocks from you, I'll be there as soon as I can." I quickly explained to the guys and as Tony's house was directly on Marcus's way home, he offered to drop me. Without another word we left, my heart thumping hard at the thought of my tiny nephew in distress and how Tony and Maria must be feeling. "Can you go any faster Marcus?"

\---

I slept on the couch - slept being a relative term; I didn't actually get much sleep at all. Fretting over both Matteo and Ben wasn't exactly conducive to rest, no matter how weary I had been to start with. Although I'd ignored his initial calls and texts, I had hoped Ben would keep trying and the more time that went by without hearing from him, the more I was convinced my fears about his lack of trust were correct. Our conversation of Monday kept replaying over and over in my head.

At six I got up and showered, putting the same clothes back on - I'm only a size 10 but Maria is a tiny thing and nothing of hers would fit me - then checked out the fridge for breakfast supplies. When Carlo padded out in his Spiderman pyjamas I was chopping fruit.

"Buongiorno Carlo. Come stai?" (Good morning Carlo. How are you?)

"Aunty Cara? Where's papà?"

I lifted him up for a hug and told him his dad had gone to the hospital, but not details of why. He nodded, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Can I have Cheerios for breakfast?"

"Si." I sat him down and poured him a bowl, added milk and fruit and left him to it while I went to check on Gaby.

"Buongiorno mia dolce piccolo unicorno." Seeing she was awake, I tickled her belly as I called her a sweet little unicorn - Gaby loved unicorns. She giggled in that way that is so adorable in little girls, her brown curls bouncing around her head as she squirmed about. "Are you hungry for breakfast?"

Once we'd all eaten I helped Gaby dress then oversaw the two of them washing and brushing their teeth. My plans for going outdoors were scuppered when it began raining heavily, so instead we built a blanket fort, coloured in and watched cartoons. I was reading them a story when Tony rang with the good news that Matteo had stabilized, his temperature was down and he was beginning to respond to the medication. A few minutes later nonna rang to say she could care for the children while I taught my lessons this afternoon and that Marco would look after them tonight if Tony wasn't back by then.

As I was clearing the dishes after lunch a text arrived; it was Jake, saying he needed to talk to me about something. I assumed it was about the songs and left it - I'd see him tonight at Donoghues anyway.

There was still no word from Ben.

\---

I was almost late for the gig, having paid a quick visit to the hospital to take fresh clothes and things in for Maria, after which I'd missed the train that would have taken me closest to Donoghues and had to catch another route and change. Jake had muttered something about still needing to talk to me when I raced in, to which I merely nodded as I quickly looked through the set list and took my place. I fluffed my start of the first song, which I put down to tiredness, apologised and we started again, but once we got going I was fine.

At the beginning of our first break I headed to the bar, looking around when my name was called to see my friends Annie and Maggie with their husbands. There were hugs all round. "Hi guys, what are you doing here?"

"Come for the Guinness and green beer of course," Annie grinned at me, "nothing at all to do with you singing here." We laughed and I joined them at their table to catch up on the last few weeks since I'd seen them. "We haven't heard from you Cara, is that boyfriend of yours taking up all your time?" I'd told them I was seeing someone, just not who, hedging around questions about name and occupation, etc. Now I deflected the question by telling them about the gig with Eleanor, feeling hollow inside thinking of Ben.

"That's amazing Cara!" Maggie was really enthusiastic and looked around at the others. We'd all been at high school together - in fact, I'd had a huge crush on Maggie's husband Paul between the ages of fifteen and sixteen. "We should make a weekend of it and go to Dublin to see the show!" Her suggestion was met with a lot of enthusiasm until I pointed out that the show was on a Wednesday night, not at a weekend. "Damn!"

At our second break I joined them again, although I caught a frustrated look from Jake.

Our last set finished with me singing Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down). It left me feeling rather maudlin and I wondered why on earth I hadn't suggested changing it.

 

Now he's gone, I don't know why

And 'till this day, sometimes I cry

He didn't even say goodbye

He didn't take the time to lie.

 

Bang, bang, he shot me down

Bang, bang, I hit the ground

Bang, bang, that awful sound

Bang, bang, my baby shot me down

 

"Cara, I really need to talk to you." We had almost finished packing up.

"Jake, look, I appreciate your enthusiasm to get on board with the songs, I honestly and truly do but I am sooooo incredibly knackered. Do you think we could leave it till tomorrow?"

"It's not about the songs."

It's not? "Oh, okay. What's it about?"

He looked around almost furtively and despite my bone-aching weariness I was intrigued. "We need to go somewhere private."

Alarm bells rang in my head. At least, I hope that's what it was, but at this point I am so tired I wouldn't be at all surprised if I were hallucinating. "Jake Anderson, if you're going to try to kiss me again, so help me God, I'll..."

"No! It's nothing like that, I swear. Please Cara...it's about...him."

Him? Him who? I giggled to myself, thinking it sounded like an owl that didn't know the words. Oh God, I must be really tired. Jake led me to the storage room I'd bailed him up in not long ago and carefully shut the door. I flexed my joint muscles, just in case I'd need them. Some of them responded, some of them just went 'meh.'

"You remember I told you I couldn't afford to come to Dublin with you?" Nodding seemed to use the least energy, so I did that. "And that I'd found the money somewhere?" Another nod. "Well, someone gave me the money to cover my fare, accommodation and missing a couple of day's work."

A fairy godmother! Lord, I wish I had one of those. No, wait, Jake had said 'it's about him', so it must be a fairy godfather. A mafia boss with wings! I giggled again and looked at Jake; he was looking at me. "What?" I asked.

He gave me a look that I could tell was meant to convey a Deeper Meaning but I seriously couldn't be bothered trying to work it out. Just tell me already, sheesh. Dead on my feet here, hello. Finally he sighed and said, as if he were revealing Superman's secret identity or something, "It was him...he gave me the money."

"Him? He? Jake, what the hell are you talking about, because honestly you are just starting to piss me off." My brain cannot take it - I'm sorry, the riddle-solving department is closed for the evening. No, make that for the entire week.

"God Cara - him! Your...boyfriend."

Boyfriend? My boyfriend? My boyfriend gave Jake money so he could afford to come to Dublin to play for me?

Oh holy Mary, mother of God.


	29. The Two Mr Darcys

"I have to go. Will you take my guitar for me?"

He agreed and I started to leave the room then turned back. "Jake..." Once again I found myself giving him a hug. "Thank you."

"For what?" His voice was gruff.

"For telling me about Ben. You didn't have to, you could have kept it to yourself and I would have been none the wiser."

"You...you love him don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well then." His head was hung, his green eyes downcast. I reached up and kissed his cheek.

"I love you too, you know," I told him softly. "I'm sorry it's not in the way you want, but for what it's worth, I'm glad to have you as my friend. I would hate for anything to jeopardise that." I hugged him again. "See you tomorrow." Then I left and caught the first taxi I saw.

There were no lights showing when I looked up from the footpath and no answer when I knocked on his door; I tried again, louder, in case he was asleep, but it was soon obvious he was out so I sat down on his welcome mat to wait.

\---

Tickling. Something was tickling my cheek. I swatted at it languidly but it persisted, so I waved my hand harder and was startled into movement when whatever it was made a loud noise. "Ow, Christ!" Rolling away from it in panic, I felt myself falling and seconds later was brought into consciousness by the jolt of landing on the floor.

"God, Cara are you all right?"

A face peered over what I now recognised was a bed. His face. His bed. "Something was tickling me," I said, not quite awake yet in spite of my tumble.

"I think that was probably me." He rubbed his face.

Oh shit, I hit him. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine." We lay there looking at one another, him on the bed and me on the floor. "Would you like some help to get up or are you wanting to stay on the floor for the foreseeable future?"

"It's actually quite comfortable, you have a really plush carpet." His mouth quirked a little and a string tugged in my chest. There was plenty of light in the room although I could see the curtains were still closed. "What time is it?"

His head disappeared for a minute, presumably to consult a timepiece. "Nine thirty," came his voice before he reappeared. His hair was dishevelled and he obviously hadn't shaved in a couple of days judging by the chin fuzz my fingers were suddenly aching to explore. Like me, he appeared to be fully clothed. God, he looked gorgeous.

I remembered sitting outside his door; I remembered resting my head against it and closing my eyes for just a minute. I don't remember anything else.

"I found you laying outside my door fast asleep," he said, as if he could read my thoughts, "So I carried you in here, figuring it had to be more comfortable than my welcome mat. I hope that was okay."

I nodded. "How did you know where Jake lived?" He didn't seem too concerned at the sudden change of topic.

"Bob." That surprised me. "Of course, first I had to convince him I wasn't looking for Jake to beat his head in or anything." That sounds more like it.

"I know why you did it, gave Jake the money I mean," I told him, feeling something sunshiny and warm blossoming in my chest.

"You do?" Our gazes locked.

"I've read Jane Austen and seen plenty of chick flicks in my time."

His mouth twitched again. "How are they relevant?"

"The guy makes a grand gesture for the girl he loves - you know, like when Mr Darcy tracks down Lydia and Wickham and arranges and pays for their wedding so Lizzie and her sisters won't be hurt by the scandal." I paused but didn't take my eyes off his face. "A gesture like arranging for the rival to play at her gig to show her he trusts her."

"Move over," he said and as I wriggled over a little, he rolled off the bed to join me on the floor. "I'm sorry I didn't do a very good job at showing you that earlier." He pressed his face into the hand I gently placed on his cheek then put his own hand over mine. "I do trust you Cara."

I gave a small nod. "I know that now."

"And I love you, so much."

The warm sunshine was everywhere now, throughout my body, chasing away the shadow of heartache and making me feel like I was glowing. "I know," I smiled.

He gave me that sexy half smile I love almost as much as I love him. "Star Wars reference!"

I burst into laughter but it was cut off as he crushed me to him and placed his mouth on mine, all his love there in his kiss. Lord, how I've missed his kiss.

"Ben?"

"Yes darling?"

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Are you trying to send me away already woman?" I kissed him, hard, to show him how absurd that comment was. He brushed my hair back from my face and placed a kiss on my eyelids. "When I found you on my doorstep I sent Adam a text to say I wouldn't be in today."

"That was very forward thinking of you Cumbers." I ran my fingers through the beard that had been tickling my face and neck, looking at him through my eyelashes. "Have you any idea how we're going to spend the day?"

"I have a few ideas." I raised my brows until he admitted gruffly, "Well, one idea."

Smiling, I placed my hand on his chest. "Did you know if you go off the main paths in Richmond Park it's easy to be hidden amongst the thick trees and shrubs?" I could see as he shook his head that he was puzzled by the topic I'd introduced. "And did you also know that the horses from the Wimbledon Village stables are exceptionally placid creatures, not easily frightened by any...disturbances around them?"

"Sweetheart, I..." I could see in his eyes the moment the penny dropped. "Oh! Oh God Cara, I...really?"

"If you feel up for the challenge," I smirked. I'm pretty sure his answering growl was a yes... and that it was a very good idea to get some practice first right there on his bedroom floor...and again at my flat when we called in so I could change clothes.

The horses we hired were terrific; they didn't seem nervous or skittish at all. Ben, however, was - but he's a quick study and he soon got the hang of it.


	30. In Dublin's Fair City

"Good morning handsome." It should be against the law for a man to look so damn sexy first thing in the morning. Seriously. We girls have to primp and preen and he wakes up with tousled auburn curls, chin dusted with gingery bristles and those bedroom eyes and I have a tough job remembering why I should get out of bed.

"Good morning, my adorable blanket hog." He leaned in to me but I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Hold on now, big boy. You expect me to kiss the mouth that just called me a blanket hog?"

"Sweetheart," his mouth turned up in a sexy grin and for a minute there I completely forgot the topic of conversation. "I'll call you whatever you like as long as you let me kiss those sweet, delectable lips of yours." Dammit man! "And by the way," I dragged my gaze from his lips to his eyes, which were twinkling with mischief and lust. "Thank you for the compliment." He winked and I blushed. I blushed. Then I let him kiss me, and Oh God, I could feel that kiss down in my toes.

"Ben," I breathed, as our hands began a mutual exploration of each other's bodies while his mouth skirted down my collarbone towards my breasts, sending electrical shocks to every limb, "You'll be late for work."

"I'll be quick darling, I promise."

"I don't want quick." My pout turned into a gasp and then a moan at what his long, clever fingers were doing.

"Then I'm going to be late for work." It was very difficult to argue with that logic.

\---

"What time is your rehearsal tonight?" he asked later as he dressed.

Tomorrow is the day of the gig; first thing in the morning the guys and I would be flying to Dublin. At the moment it seemed quite surreal, but I was pretty sure the jitters would set in once I was at the airport, if not before.

"Eight. We should be done by ten." Ben couldn't make it to Dublin; he would be recording Cabin Pressure, a comedy radio series he'd been involved in for all of its four seasons.

"I will get to see you afterwards, won't I? How about I bring you home?" He had his trousers on and now slipped on a sky blue shirt.

"That sounds like a plan, Cumbers." I got out of bed and began doing up the buttons for him but as I was about to tuck the shirt in, he stilled my hands. "No, best not to put your hands down there."

I looked down at the front of his trousers. "Ben! We've only just..."

"Sweetheart, you're standing naked in front of me. I'm only human."

I laughed and executed a twirl. "You like what you see?"

Instantly, arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight to every inch of him. "What do you think?" he growled. My hands ran through his curls as his tongue licked my lower lip and he caressed my rear, sending tingles up and down my spine. "You are Aglaope, Pelsinoe and Thelxlope rolled into one tantalising package."

"Thank you, I think. Who are they?"

"Sirens from Greek mythology." He gave me another toe-curling kiss then begged, "Now please put something on or I will be very late to work and then I'll never hear the end of it from the others."

Giggling, I obeyed and followed him out to the kitchen, making sure he took something with him to eat for breakfast. "You need to replenish all that energy," I told him, fluttering my eyelashes with a grin.

"Wench," he replied, flashing me a grin of his own then gave me one last kiss before he headed out the door.

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I showered and dressed; being with Ben made me happy and as he'd been particularly attentive and loving the past two weeks, I was floating on cloud nine. Every now and then I reminded myself I was unusually lucky he had so much work here at home at the moment and that at some point in the future he'd be off overseas filming on location, possibly for long periods of time. Well, I'd worry about that when it happened, I reasoned; right now I had the gig in Dublin to start panicking over - that was much more immediate. Checking I had sent Eleanor all the information she needed, I confirmed flight details and completed online check-in, ironed two different stage outfits, as I still hadn't decided which one I would wear, and packed my bag. Having made sure my passport was safely in my handbag, I went to visit my grandparents.

\---

All right Cara; checklist: Passport - check. Outfit - check, check. Clean underwear - check. God, nonna would never forgive me if I got hit by a bus and didn't have clean underwear. Okay, what else? Toiletries and makeup - check. Phone and charger - check. Boarding pass - check. Hotel reservation receipt - check. Glasses or contacts? Oh heck - both. Done! No, wait, I feel like I'm forgetting something. What is it? What...?

"Don't forget your guitar, love."

My guitar! Holy crap, how could I nearly forget my guitar!

"Do you need a kiss?" his deep voice asked softly from right behind me, large hands coming to rest on my shoulders. I turned around. "It helped when you were nervous with me, I thought maybe it could help here too..."

"Are you sure your motive is entirely altruistic?" I teased, smiling, already feeling slightly less jittery just with him being so close.

He grinned in reply. "Not if I'm being completely honest." Laughing, I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry I can't be there tonight, sweetheart; I wish I could."

"I know and it's okay - your work is booked months ahead and this was very last minute, so..."

"You're going to be absolutely amazing, I know. There'll be record deals and tour offers flooding in and soon I'll have to share you with the whole world."

Scoffing, I ran my hand down his face. "Exaggerate much, Cribbleplum?"

"Cribbleplum?"

I felt his laughter reverberate in his chest and grinned. "Got that one off the Internet," I tweaked his ear. "Did you know there are multiple sites with funny name generators for you?"

"I did," he groaned, "but I was hoping you hadn't found them."

I laughed then kissed him, adding, "Too late. The beast is unleashed." He shook all over and I felt my heart expanding. God, I love his laugh. Damn, he's not going to hear that song...

A knock at the door interrupted my thought; I let him go and went to answer it, finding Rick, looking almost as nervous as I felt. "Hey."

"Hey Rick. Come in." The men shook hands then Rick took my suitcase and guitar; Ben picked up his jacket and I collected my handbag and keys, did a last quick glance around and hoped like hell I hadn't forgotten anything.

We looked at each other then he gathered me to him and just held me for a minute, hands rubbing in soothing circles on my back. "Break a leg, darling girl. I love you. Call me after the show and tell me all about it."

"I will. Call you, I mean, not break a leg. Literally - which I know you didn't mean, but anyway...oh God, I'm rambling." I took a deep breath. "I love you too. Good luck with your recording." My hands had begun to tremble. "Ben, tell me I'm not going to freeze up or sing off-key or..."

"Sweetheart," his fingers lifted my chin up, his eyes looking directly into mine. "You won't do either of those, or any other disaster your over-active imagination can think of. You, my little Yankees fan, will metaphorically hit the ball out of the park and Dublin will love you - not nearly as much as I love you, but they're only just meeting you for the first time. Just go out on that stage and be you and I promise you, you will win their hearts as easily as you won mine."

"Oh." Tears threatened but the sound of a horn tooting loudly distracted me enough to hold them at bay. We held hands as we exited my flat and I locked the door, then I turned to kiss him goodbye here where Jake wouldn't have to watch. Another toot of the horn broke us apart. "I have to go. See you tomorrow. Ti amo."

"Ti amo anch'io, cara mia."

\---

We landed in Dublin to a fine drizzle of rain and caught the Airlink bus to the top end of O'Connell Street, arriving only a few yards from the theatre where we were to leave our gear for the sound check later. As we approached the entrance I stopped and gasped, staring ahead of me to the large posters advertising tonight's performance - an almost life size photo of Eleanor's top half and a smaller cameo of me inserted to the side.

"With support act Cara de Luca," Rick read out.

"Whoa," was all I felt capable of replying.

Marcus flung his arm around my shoulder. "Come on then, Miss Support Act, let's drop our gear; I don't know about you lot, but I'm starving."

"You're always hungry," I teased, but it broke my tension and we went in to leave our gear then walked to our budget hotel not far down the road to check in. Being the city's main thoroughfare, O'Connell Street was bursting with cafés and eateries so we had no problem finding somewhere for lunch - the difficult part was understanding what was being said to us by the locals. It made for some rather hilarious interpretations but luckily everyone involved took it in good humour and soon we were sitting down with a hearty meal even if we weren't entirely certain what it was.

"I was sure he was telling me it was two grand for my lunch," laughed Marcus, "and I was ready to call him on it."

"I think he was saying 'tis grand'," I chuckled, "it seems to be a common expression - I heard it a few times on the bus and at the airport."

"That makes much more sense."

Lunch over, we had three hours to kill before our sound check so decided to jump on the Hop-on, Hop-Off double decker tour bus and discover some of the city's sights. We drove past Trinity College, Christ Church and Dublin Castle before jumping off to watch some buskers on Grafton Street and a leprechaun as we crossed Ha'penny Bridge over the River Liffey. The guys were keen to explore the Guinness Storehouse, of course, whereas I would have loved to have time to see the Book of Kells at Trinity College. Ah well, they'd have to wait until the next visit.

Eleanor came to listen while we did the sound check and I introduced her to Rick, Marcus and Jake, then she and I ran through our song together. Once that finished, the guys and I headed back to our hotel to change our clothes and wait for show time.

With every passing second the excitement and nerves were building. I thought about doing some yoga to calm me, but the clothes I had on were impractical for that; I'd eventually chosen to wear black jeans and ankle boots with a scoop-neck lace blouse with elbow length sleeves. I'd chosen it for its colour as much as its comfort and practicality, remembering that Ben loved me in red. The guitar pick necklace he had given me for my birthday nestled above the neckline and I found myself touching it often, thinking of it as my good luck charm. My hair was pulled back from my face into a ponytail and I applied a little eyeliner and lip-gloss.

I jumped at a knock on the door then laughed at myself and opened it to find all three guys ready for me; dressed all in dark trousers and white shirts, they looked handsome and professional and I told them so.

"You scrub up pretty nice too Cara," Marcus told me, and the others agreed.

"Ready to go?" Rick asked.

I nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be, I think."

We walked to the theatre, using our passes to be admitted in the performers' entrance by security, met inside by the stage manager who showed us to the backstage lounge and told me my guitar was onstage ready for me. I wouldn't need it for the first song. I drank a little water and did some voice warm-ups, zoning out the chatter of the guys as I told myself to keep calm.

It's only singing, you've done that millions of times. Singing and playing your guitar - you love that; there's nothing to worry about. Pretend your family are in the audience and sing to them. Pretend Ben's here and sing to him, especially that song.

"All right Cara?" I looked at Jake; he could tell I was nervous. "Hey, you're going to be great. We're all here for you; we won't let you down. Just sing like you did at rehearsal last night."

"Thanks Jake. I...I'll be fine." I spoke to all three. "Guys, I don't know how I can ever repay you for being here but I want you to know how grateful I am. I wish I had the money to pay you for this gig, but...well, I can shout the first drink after the show."

"Hey, you don't need to pay us or thank us Cara, we're your friends and that's what friends do."

"Especially the shouting the drinks part!" Marcus made us all laugh but that was cut off pretty quickly when the door opened and we were called to the stage.

The short walk along the corridor and up three steps was nerve-wracking; I could hear my heartbeat even over the noise of the audience that was so much louder than it ever was in Bob's pub or at Donoghues. It made me think of the buzzing of bees in a hive - did that make me the Queen Bee? No, that would be Eleanor; I must be the Princess Bee. Bzzz, bzzz.

I stopped to let the guys go ahead of me to get set up on their instruments, then when they were ready I went to stand directly in front of them; when the curtain opened I would walk forward to my microphone.

The noise from beyond the curtains receded as I concentrated. I closed my eyes, conjuring up images of my loved ones. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Just sing. You can do it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Trinity Theatre is pleased to welcome to the stage...Cara de Luca."


	31. Meant to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Cara is a singer/songwriter - unlike me - I will be "borrowing" some songs from other artists and making them her creations. This is only for the sake of the story and no copyright infringement in intended.

Click, click, click, click. Click, click, click, click.

I made my way to the mic; the guys continued the beat when I began to sing with nothing but the sound of their fingers snapping in unison.

 

I feel a sin coming on

I feel a right that's about to go wrong

I got a shiver down to the bone

I feel a sin coming on

 

For this song I needed to be confident, sassy and flirtatious, so I was channelling Ben, imagining his face, his body, his lips, his hands. 

 

I gotta buzz in my brain

Drunk on a love going down like champagne

I got a feeling it's gonna leave a lipstick stain

And I'd be the only one to blame

 

Instruments kicked in when I got to the chorus; drums, bass, keyboard.

 

And you can see it all over my face

Sweet temptation, all over the place

Give me tall, dark and handsome

Mix it up with something strong,

I feel a sin coming on.

 

When I finished the last repeated chorus the clicking was there again; I stepped back a little and strapped on my guitar ready to swing into the next number - more confidence, more sass. 

 

The first thing I did when you said goodbye

Was sit myself down and have a real good cry

The next thing I did was put my red dress on

And go downtown dancing 'til the break of dawn.

 

It's upbeat, cheeky, I-can-get-over-you-just-like-that. 

 

A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do

And now I've gotta get to getting over you

Too bad I've gotta do it with someone new

But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do

 

My fingers were flying over the strings by the time we got to the last chorus, the chords and strumming patterns as familiar as old friends and as easy as breathing. It was only as the last note was echoing and my ears exploded with the sound of applause that I remembered there was a huge crowd in front of me.

"Good evening Dublin! Thank you for that warm welcome. I'm Cara de Luca and I'm here to entertain you with a few songs while you wait for the real reason you bought that ticket for tonight." There's a small titter of appreciative laughter. "Some of the songs will be familiar to you and some will be brand new but you're welcome at any time to clap your hands, tap your feet or even sing along if you know the words." I paused, looking serious. "Please limit yourself to the choruses of the songs...and let me do the verses." There was more appreciative laughter as I grinned and began to play. "You may recognise this one."

It was the Sinead Lohan song, Sailing By; I was thrilled to hear people singing along when I reached the chorus.

 

Dreams are a kite on a windy day

Free as a boat by the pier

And I can see it's always me

Holding her here, holding her here

 

After that we did acoustic versions of the Jason Mraz hit, I'm Yours and Dylan's I'll Be Your Baby Tonight.

"Thank you very much." The applause was heady, intoxicating; I could get used to this. "The next two songs are ones I wrote about a year ago. The first is about losing love when life gets in the way and the second talks about finding new love when you're least expecting it. I hope you like them."

 

Tried to keep you close to me,

But life got in between

Tried to square not being there

But think that I should've been

 

Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes

Hold back the river, so I

Can stop for a minute and see where you hide

Hold back the river, hold back

 

Rick's drum work on this song always got close to choking me up, it made the song so powerful. I was particularly proud of way the tempo rose and fell, much like the rhythm of the lyrical river. For the last chorus my guitar was the only instrument picking out the melody.

 

Lonely water, lonely water, won't you let us wander

Let us hold each other

 

As applause sounded I plucked my strings for the intro to Begin Again.

 

Took a deep breath in the mirror

He didn't like it when I wore high heels

But I do

Turn the lock and put my headphones on

He always said he didn't get this song

But I do, I do

 

Walked in expecting you'd be late

But you got here early and you stand and wave

I walk to you

You pull my chair out and help me in

And you don't know how nice that is

But I do

 

I had written this song after my cousin Lucia went through a terrible breakup and shortly after met her husband, but there were some small parallels between the experiences I'd written about and my experiences with meeting Ben, so it made me smile inside.

 

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again

 

It was time now for my last song before the duet with Eleanor. I paused to let the applause die down then said softly into the microphone, "Thank you. I wrote my next song very recently and I'd like to dedicate it to the man who holds my heart." 

 

I like the feel of your name on my lips

And I like the sound of your sweet gentle kiss,

The way that your fingers run through my hair,

And how your scent lingers even when you're not there.

 

And I like the way your eyes dance when you laugh,

And how you enjoy your two-hour bath.

The way you convinced me to dance in the rain

With everyone watching like we were insane.

 

But I love the way you love me.

Strong and wild, slow and easy,

Heart and soul, so completely,

Oh, I love the way you love me.

 

I like to imitate old Jerry Lee

And watch you roll your eyes when I'm slightly off-key.

I like the innocent way that you cry

At sappy old movies you've seen hundreds of times.

 

Oh, I love the way you love me.

Strong and wild, slow and easy,

Heart and soul, so completely,

Oh, I love the way you love me.

Oh baby, I love the way you love me.

 

Lost in thoughts of Ben, the thunderous applause rolled over me until I caught myself and came back to the here and now.

"There's just one song left to sing for you tonight. You've been an amazing audience, thank you so very much - and you sing pretty good too!" I was laughing with them and it was an incredible sensation.

Jake and I began on guitar with Marcus on keyboard; after the first four bars Rick's drums kicked in.

 

I think it was me, it must have been me,

I guess I did something wrong.

I tried too hard, wanted too much

I guess that's why he's gone.

I lost my pride; I fought and cried,

I felt like a little kid.

What's wrong with me? I still can't believe

I did the things I did.

I couldn't change him,

He was going to break my heart.

I saw it coming

Yes, I knew it from the start.

When you love...

 

The crowd roared as Eleanor came on to join me, taking the next line of the chorus then harmonising as we sang the Reba McEntire/LeAnn Rimes hit. By the time we reached the last chorus the audience were singing with us - I couldn't hear them over the sound of the music but I could see mouths moving whenever I glanced that way. 

 

When you love (when you love)

With all your heart and soul, it's so hard to let it go

When you love (when you love)

When you love someone like that, when you give what you can't take back

When you love (when you love)

With all your heart and soul, it's so hard to let it go

When you love someone like that (when you love someone like that)

When you love someone like that (when you love someone like that)

You're all right (I'm all right)

You're okay (I'm okay)

When you love someone like that

When you love

 

We both strummed the last notes on our guitars and looked at each other; I can't speak for Eleanor, but for me it was a truly magical moment. I turned to face the audience, my heart leaping into my throat when I saw that many of them had risen to their feet. Eleanor indicated me with her arm, saying into the microphone, "Cara de Luca everyone," then standing back to let me take the applause. I took off my guitar and bowed, the adrenalin coursing through my body giving me the most incredible high; I was floating over and above the stage, looking down on the girl in the geeky glasses who had just sung her heart out to fifteen hundred people and adored every second of it.

Holy crap, I did it. When can I do it again?


	32. Surprises

"She's so laid back and talks to them as if they're friends visiting her home; I envy that. I hope I can be that like some day," I replied, talking softly.

"What are you talking about? You are exactly like that, you always have been."

To say I was astonished would be an understatement. "What? Don't be silly."

He shook his head. "Cara," his voice was low but carried conviction, "you have that same sense of ease and friendliness - you have it with the punters in the pubs and you had it here tonight. It's one of the reasons why I...well, anyway, don't sell yourself short." As he disappeared backstage I stared after him, mouth gaping open like a guppy.

\---

"Right, are we off then?" Marcus rubbed his hands together, clearly keen to celebrate with that free drink I'd promised.

The show was over and we were heading to a local pub with Eleanor and her band. As we trundled out towards the exit I saw a theatre staff member coming towards us; catching sight of me, she veered towards me, asking, "Cara de Luca?"

"Yes." I stopped in my tracks.

"There are two people here asking to see you." She obviously read the surprised expression on my face as she added, "They said they're relatives." Relatives? Of mine? The woman murmured, "An elderly couple? Tall gentleman, short lady."

Oh my God! It can't be! Hearing what was happening, the others asked if I wanted them to wait for me while I saw my visitors but I demurred, not wanting to hold them up. Sean, the bass player, gave me detailed instructions on how to find the pub they were heading to. "Call us if there's a problem, okay?" Rick instructed. I nodded, thanked them, promised I would catch up and went with the theatre lady, who took me to a room near the booking office.

As soon as I walked in I was smothered in my grandmother's embrace, nonno standing behind her grinning like a Cheshire cat with his arms wrapped around both of us, the two of them jabbering words of congratulation and love rapidly in Italian.

"What are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you - oh, it's wonderful to see you," I tightened my grip on them both, "but what are you doing here? How did you get here? When did you get here?" I was almost as incoherent as they were, all of us bubbling with excitement. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

They both spoke at once, huge beams on their faces as they talked. I managed to pick up the words "aeroplane', 'surprise' and 'Benedict'.

"Benedict?" I gasped. "Is Ben here?" I looked around the room, telling myself how silly that was even as I was doing it; Ben couldn't possibly have blown off recording his show just to come and see me sing. Eventually we calmed down a little and I got out of them the story that Ben had arranged for them to come to the show as a surprise for me; he had paid for their tickets, flights and accommodation tonight in a hotel; they were on the same flight home as the boys and I tomorrow. I couldn't hold back the tears at his thoughtfulness and hugged my grandparents again, thrilled beyond measure that they'd been in the audience tonight.

When it became clear that the theatre staff were hoping we would leave, I accompanied nonna and nonno to their hotel, luckily not far away, bade them goodnight and went to the pub to meet the others. From the way I was greeted with yells and cheers I surmised they were at least a couple of drinks up on me already, so I shouted the next round as promised. Three and a half drinks later, I was deep in conversation with Eleanor about song writing and didn't notice my phone vibrating on the table until Rick pointed it out. Seeing it was Ben calling, I quickly excused myself and tried to find a quiet spot where I would be able to hear him - for a midweek night, the place was unusually full.

"Ben, Ben, Benny, Ben, Ben; I love you," I said into the speaker when I answered, having a little difficulty managing the door as I attempted to step outside to escape the hubbub. The drinks were having more of an effect on me than I realised.

"I love you too," he chuckled at my greeting. "How did it go? You were incredible, I know, but how do you feel?"

"I feel like...it was amazing...they laughed and sang and clappered...I loved it...it felt like I was...I didn't want to get off...sooooo high...still in the crowds - clouds." I dropped my voice to a stage whisper and added, "You know, it was better than sex...oh, not sex with you though, love, just those...other people." His choked laughter was the background to me letting out a huge sigh, trying to gather my chaotic thoughts and runaway tongue so I could at least make one cohesive sentence. "Benny boo, nonna and...that was so sweet and...thinkful and gen-generous...thank you." A hiccup at the end of that sentence made me giggle softly.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I'm assuming you're out celebrating?" I could hear the smile in his voice and pictured his face, grinning.

"Yesss. I've had two pints of Guinness...no, three. And a half. That stuff is...potent." I heard him laugh again. Aw, I love the sound of him laughtering. "Why aren't you here, Cumbers Bumbers Wumbers?"

"I wish I were," he replied, still laughing, "Tipsy you sounds like a lot of fun; I think I'm going to have to ply you with alcohol sometime so I get to see it firsthand."

"What's ply alcohol?" I frowned. I haven't heard of that; it doesn't sound all that great.

"Never mind, love, go back to your celebrating and I'll see you tomorrow." His voice sobered. "I'm so proud of you, Cara."

"Tanks Benny. I'm so proud of me too."

We said goodnight and I went back inside, shouldering my way unsteadily through the throngs to join my friends both old and new, and after finishing my pint, was talked into another.

\---

"Marcus, if you can't read that newspaper more quietly, I'm going to take it and ram it..." a quick glance at my grandparents reminded me to watch what I was saying. "...into the rubbish bin." I finished.

We were in the hotel dining room the next morning for breakfast and I may have possibly been suffering from the worst hangover I'd ever had. The thought of trying to eat the fried potato cakes that had been plonked in front of me was making me feel decidedly queasy and I pushed my plate aside in hopes that the smell would go away too.

Oh God, why did I do this to myself?

Marcus, no doubt with a great deal more experience than me in dealing with an overindulgence in alcohol, merely huffed good-naturedly and said, "Well, okay, if you don't want to hear the review of last night's show, I can put the paper away..."

"What?" He had my undivided attention now, as well as everyone else's. "Review? Do they do that?" I moved my head far too quickly to look at him, regretting it instantly and giving a heartfelt moan at the torture.

Jake placed a bottle of aspirin in front of me and nonna poured me a large glass of water, nonno just shaking his head at my self-inflicted state. I quickly swallowed three tablets while Marcus turned to the arts section of the paper, smoothing it out in what I considered an unnecessarily noisy manner, before he began reading the review.

With a fantastic catalogue of material to draw upon, McEvoy swept through a selection of favourites that to the initiated are as cosy and familiar as a pair of threadbare old slippers. She also paid dues to other songwriters, with authentic and impassioned renditions of 'True Colors', a poignant 'Eve Of Destruction', and an encore of Chuck Berry's 'Memphis Tennessee'. Amongst the highlights, a funky rendition of 'The Thought Of You' whilst 'Deliver Me' and 'Harbour', demonstrate her regular knack of penning a heartfelt, judicious tune. The likes of 'Wrong So Wrong' and the song where it all began - 'Only A Woman's Heart' - confirmed that she is up there with those artists that she covers. She delivered a perfectly balanced set, enhanced by her engaging between-song banter.

The surprise of the evening, however, came in the rich, expressive and heartfelt vocals of complete unknown opening act Cara de Luca, who showed us with a velvety, husky seduction that she was able to invoke innocence and world-weariness with equal alacrity. Acoustic-heavy covers of other artists were followed by three of her own compositions - a huggable, inspiring, acoustic country ballad and a melodic, infectious blues-kissed number that fostered an intimacy between performer and audience. In her evocative love ballad she demonstrated an ability to take simple, everyday thoughts and feelings and perform them with sufficient real sincerity and emotion to make them special. This young woman is certainly one to watch.

I blinked while my foggy brain attempted to make sense of the big words. It was a positive review, wasn't it? Everyone around me seemed to think so, though I couldn't make out individual words, I was merely cringing from the raucous sound they made all talking at once and wondering where I could get an instrument sharp enough to separate my throbbing head from my body. That would surely put me out of my misery.

\---

My recollection of the flight home was hazy, to say the least, though it did seem as if we'd barely taken off before we were preparing to land again. I shuffled through with the others at Heathrow and elected to share a taxi with my grandparents, hugging the others carefully before we split up. We had a gig that night as usual at Donoghue's so they offered to hang on to my guitar and take it along for me, for which I was grateful. During the ride home I rested my head against the cool glass of the window, which seemed to help slightly, while nonna and nonno chatted softly in Italian. Mine was the first stop, so I hugged them tightly and was persuaded to promise to bring Ben to Sunday dinner if he was available.

Stepping into my flat, I thought perhaps I had wandered into the local florist shop by mistake; the scent of a myriad of blooms hit me as soon as I opened the door and when I took a tentative step inside, I saw vases of flowers of all descriptions sitting on almost every vertical surface of my lounge/dining area.

I stood there for a few minutes trying to make sense of it but my tired, hung-over brain simply wasn't up to the task. Shrugging my shoulders, I headed to my bedroom, dumped all my things on the floor, removed my outer clothing and climbed into bed.


	33. Pinch Me Please

I woke around two feeling considerably better; I showered, dressed and took more aspirin for the dull headache that was still lurking, craving caffeine but with no time to go buy some before my first student was due. Grabbing an apple to feed the hunger pangs, I looked at all the flowers; the nearest vase held no clue as to the sender so I wandered around looking in each one, admiring the colours and variety of blooms as I went. None of them revealed a card but I was reasonably certain who had sent them and went into the bedroom to find my phone just as it pinged with a text.

Ben: How's the head?

Cara: Still on my shoulders, surprisingly.

Ben: May I come over later?

Cara: Only if you bring coffee. Strong. Hot. Lots.

Ben: Yes ma'am. See you around 5.30.

Cara: Thank you for the beautiful flowers x

Ben: My pleasure x

A knock at the door heralded Jaime's arrival for her singing lesson, so for the next couple of hours I concentrated on teaching. With only two weeks until the term ended, we were practising for an end-of-year concert for all the parents and families so over the next fortnight I would have my students rehearsing in groups as well as individually to prepare.

By the time Ben arrived my stomach was reminding me the apple was the only thing I'd eaten all day and I was craving coffee so much I rivalled a junkie needing her next fix. Opening the door to him, I barely pecked his cheek before snatching a cup from the tray and taking a gulp.

"Oh God," I closed my eyes and moaned as the strong, bitter fluid hit my taste buds, ignoring the scalding of my tongue and throat as I swallowed. After a few more gulps I opened my eyes to see Ben still standing just inside the door, the four-cup tray in his hands missing only the one I was currently drinking from, a bemused smile on his face. Taking a smaller sip, I put my cup down, removed the tray from his hands to place it safely on the counter and stepped closer to greet him properly. "Coffee Man, you're my hero," I told him gratefully, pulling him down by the collar to bring his lips within range – when I wasn't wearing heels, our height difference meant those scrumptious beasts were much too far away from mine.

His arms encircled me as we kissed and I went up on tiptoes as he pulled me closer against his strong, lean warmth. Beginning to feel energised, I wondered if it were the caffeine kicking in already or simply the effect Ben had on me. Note to self: buy one of those 'I Am Sherlocked' t-shirts.

"Wow. If I'd known what an effect bringing you coffee would have, I would bring it every time I see you," he grinned after releasing me. I laughed as I retrieved my cup and drained it then took another from the tray. He took one as well. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better now, thank you." Taking his hand I led him to an armchair, perching on the arm once he'd settled his long limbs. "And now that I'm a lot more sober than I was when we spoke last night, I can thank you properly for arranging for nonno and nonna to be there. Ben, that was incredibly kind and thoughtful of you, not to mention generous and it meant a lot to me. Thank you so much."

"I'm glad it brought you pleasure. And them too, of course." I kissed him again, hard, relishing the taste of him as well as the hint of coffee. Hangover cure: Ben's kisses. Shame I can't bottle it. Just then a loud grumble sounded from my tummy. "Are you in need of food, by any chance?" he grinned, breaking his lips free from mine.

"Brilliant deduction Sherlock; what was the clue - the colour of my toenail clippings or the brand of toothpaste I use?" I teased as I polished off my second cup of coffee, grinning when he threw his head back and let out a loud belly laugh. "Actually the only thing I've eaten today is an apple, so yes, I am rather in need of sustenance – I could whip us up an omelette if you like."

"How about I whip up the omelettes while you rest and get more of your caffeine fix? Although, after that quip I'm thinking you may have had enough already to restore you to normal." His eyes twinkled with mirth and I grinned.

"Normal? Me? I think you've gotten me muddled up with someone else, Cumbers." When he chuckled I pressed a quick kiss to his lips then climbed up off the chair. "How about we both cook – I'll sort out the filling while you whisk the eggs."

"Deal."

So we did, working together happily in my little kitchen, feeding each other morsels of raw mushroom and sweet pepper, bumping hips together when we both reached for the same utensil and sharing the last cup of now cooling coffee. Later he drove me to Donoghue's for the gig then returned afterwards to take me back home and it didn't take much to persuade him to stay the night – he'd even thought ahead and brought a change of clothes with him so he could go straight to work the next morning.

\---

"I'm sorry?"

Okay, this is it, it's official; I have definitely lost my mind. Either that or someone has slipped me a Mickey Finn and I am hallucinating. Whichever way it is, it can't possibly be real that this man is standing in front of me saying,

"I'd like to talk to you about producing an album."

Yeah that. He can't really be saying it, right? Those sorts of things don't happen outside of stories. We'd just finished our second set at Bob's; it was crowded as usual on a Friday night and I'd been making my way back from the ladies room when I was approached by this man.

"That's what I thought you said. Look, Mr..." I looked down at the business card he had given me. Michael O'Gorman, Mosco Sound Design & Recording. He didn't look like a music producer; he looked like someone's dad – mid fifties, metal-framed glasses, receding hairline and grey beard. "Mr O'Gorman, I...you've only heard me sing for an hour, how could you possibly..."

"Cara – may I call you Cara?" I nodded. "And call me Mick, please. Cara, I've been in this business over thirty years and I've learned to trust my instincts when they tell me I have found gold. And you, my dear, are pure 24 carat, I would stake my reputation on it. Besides, this isn't the first time I've heard you sing – I was in the Trinity Theatre on Wednesday night."

My eyebrows rose while my jaw fell open – I probably looked like one of those clown heads at the fun fairs where you put ping-pong balls in their mouths as they turn from side to side. "You were at the gig in Dublin?" Then the penny dropped. "Oh my God, you're Mick O'Gorman!" Mick was Eleanor's partner, a respected sound designer, and had worked with her and produced her albums since she'd left major record labels over ten years ago.

He nodded, smiling. "You were amazing and the way the crowd responded to you - phenomenal. I particularly loved the songs that were your own composition; I think one of those should be your first single. What do you say?" He saw me hesitate and pressed on. "Tell you what, why don't you come to the studio, take a look around, meet the team and we can talk about it. No pressure, no obligation, just a chat and if you like what I propose, we go from there?"

Breathe, Cara.

"Mick, I...well, honestly I don't know what to say. This is...unexpected, to say the least."

It seems he didn't want to run the risk of me saying no. "Are you free tomorrow morning?" When I shook my head he tried again. "Afternoon? Shall we say two o'clock? The address is on the back of the card." So it is - 46 Kensington Ct, London W8.

"I..." Come on, where's the harm? "Um, okay, sure. Two o'clock tomorrow."

"Terrific!" He held out his hand and I shook it; it was warm, strong and worn. "I look forward to seeing you then." Then he turned and left and I pinched myself on the forearm, just to be sure. Yep, it hurt. Oh God. The third set passed in rather a haze; I must have sounded all right because nobody told me I was singing in Klingon or speaking with a forked tongue or anything, but if you asked me what I'd said or sung I couldn't tell you.

\---

The sound of a lawnmower woke me the next morning - not that I'd had much sleep; excitement and nerves had kept me awake for a long time as I played out all kinds of crazy scenarios in my head. When I had finally slept, I'd dreamed of performing in concert to a packed out Wembley Stadium; that place had a capacity of 90,000 so that right there was a firm justification for my friends to call me kooky. Who was I kidding, seriously? Me, fill up Wembley? Yeah, right Cara; pull the other one.

Firmly pushing aside all thoughts of record deals I concentrated on Alex, Stefan and Justin and their piece for the family concert. These three had been learning both singing and guitar for a full year and I'd picked the Dylan classic Don't Think Twice for them to perform together. They'd been practising the chords for a few weeks so today we concentrated on vocals, going over the song a couple of times and then working on parts and harmonies. They would each perform a solo piece as well, but we covered those in lessons during the week. Once their hour was up, Nathan arrived; a fairly new beginner on guitar, I'd given him Sam Cook's Wonderful World, which had easy chords. He was too shy to sing so I would be helping him out.

Lessons over, I had some lunch, my nerves rising with every heartbeat that brought me closer to the meeting with Mick and the idea of recording an album. I was dressed and ready an hour early so tried reading a book to calm my jitters. Epic fail. When my phone rang I almost dropped it, answering breathlessly just in time to stop it going to voicemail.

"Ben! Hi, hello, howdy...um...how's things?" Oh Lord. "It's a beautiful day today isn't it? Not that I've seen much of it, I've been inside all morning, but you know, it's beautiful...outside and I can see that out my windows, so...that's how I know. Ah...have you been inside or outside?"

There was silence at the other end of the line – probably stunned by my display of verbal ineptitude – before he said, "Cara, darling, is everything okay?"

I hastened to reassure. "Of course, absolutely, yes all is honky-dory here. Just fine. No problems." I was even making myself cringe. "How about with you; are things good with you too? Nothing...not good...um...no...problems, or...er...anything?"

"All right, now you've got me really worried. I'm coming over there."

"No! No, don't do that. There's no point; I won't be here. I'm going out. Out of my flat, that is, into the...beautiful...outside. So, you know...it's not worth you coming over." Holy Mother of Mercy, someone stop me talking! More silence from Ben; he was probably trying to find the number for the men in white coats. Either that or he'd finally realised I was as mad as a Hatter – hmm, no, that's the men in white coats again.

"Sweetheart," he sounded as if he were talking deliberately calmly, in reassurance, "you're obviously extremely nervous about something; I haven't heard you sound so much like a jackrabbit on crack since our first or second date." He had a good point, though he did make me think back to those early dates and smile; he'd been so sweet and charming and goofy. "Is it something I can help with? Is it a good nervous or a scary nervous?"

"Oh no, it's a good nervous. Well, I think it's good...yes, it is, it's definitely good. Not bad at all. Um, well, actually...no, yes, it will be good – well, could be good. Could be very good, in fact, so...it's fine and dandy. It's all good." Groan. Shoot me now. "It's nothing you can help with though, but thank you for asking, you're so sweet. You're always sweet, Ben, you're like...a Mars bar or Brighton rock."

He moaned. "You're killing me here, love." I made a muffled noise out of my nose but didn't have a clue what emotion it was meant to be expressing. "Would you...maybe...tell me what it is that's making you so nervous?"

I hesitated; part of me wanted nothing more than to tell him all about Mick and his proposal, but there was also a part of me that wasn't really sure all this was actually happening and didn't want to jinx anything that could possibly take place, so...I was caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Well, actually, I...um..." I happened to glance at my kitchen clock just then and realised it was time to leave. "Ben, I have to go, my appointment's at two – I...I'll tell you all about it when I see you. When am I seeing you? Oh – dinner at nonna's tomorrow."

He gave a low growl. "Damned if I'm waiting until then – I'm busy tonight but I'll be done in time to pick you up from Bob's, so I'll see you then."

"Okay, sounds good...sounds great. I have to go. I'll see you later."

"Cara."

"Yes?"

"Good luck. I love you."

I smiled, feeling ever so slightly less panicked. "I love you too Cumbers." Then I hung up and left, heading for the Tube and whatever lay ahead.

Oh crumbs.


	34. Distractions

The first thing I did when I got to Bob's that night was tell the guys about Mick and the record deal he'd offered. Predictably, they were as supportive and enthusiastic as they had been about doing the gig with Eleanor and I hugged them all. I was hugely grateful for their reaction; Rick, Marcus and Jake were my musical family and I wanted to keep them involved in this journey, if I could.

"Rick, I...I have a special favour to ask of you."

"Sure Cara, lay it on me," he smiled.

"If I decide to go ahead, would you be my manager?" He looked dumbfounded but to me he was the perfect choice; he knew my music, he had many years of experience in the industry, and he worked in PR as a day job so would have contacts and know how to make more. Sure, he hadn't managed anyone before but I trusted him and was confident he would do a fabulous job. If he was willing, of course. "You don't have to decide right this second," I assured him, "just think about it." I held my breath as he debated with himself.

"Okay."

"Okay, you'll think about it or...?"

This time he had a wide grin on his face. "Okay I'll do it," he said, and I leapt into his arms again, squeezing him so tight he made a strangled sound and laughed as he patted my back. "You gotta let me live long enough to do the job," he pointed out and I laughed too as I released him.

"Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me yet," he demurred, but we both had giant smiles on our faces as we set up for the night. Pushing aside all thoughts of Mick and the deal was slightly easier that night than it had been the previous one and the four of us seemed to be taking part in a group buzz, performing what I thought was one of our best gigs for a while and having a damned great time doing it.

I was still on a high afterwards as I walked to the spot Ben always collected me from; he was there, looking as gorgeous as ever in a dark tailored suit and white shirt, though he'd loosened his tie and undone a button or two. He'd been leaning against the car but stood straight as I approached and gave me a smile that weakened my knees and sent tingles to my nether regions. My breath hitched in my throat; it should be illegal to be so sexy, shouldn't it?

"Hi." Just that one word was enough to wipe all thought but him from my mind. He stepped forward and bent his head to give me a kiss that finished the job his smile had begun; my knees buckled and I clung to him for support as my mouth opened to his. If this is what Heaven is like then I could die a happy woman right this second; I moaned, imagining an eternity of the bliss of Ben's lips, and moved my arms to wrap behind his head and bring him closer still. When he removed his mouth from mine I whimpered but understood after he whispered in my ear, "Let's take this somewhere else, shall we?" He was right; this laneway was no place for the things I wanted to do to him.

Much later, clad only in his white shirt, I was in the kitchen of my flat getting us a snack when I found myself cocooned by muscular arms and pulled back against his bare chest. Warm lips descended on my neck sending shivers along my spine and I arched my head to the side to allow him greater access, sighing with pleasure.

"I have some important news to tell you," I murmured.

"About why you were so nervous earlier today?" He swept my hair over and moved his attention to the other side of my neck, nibbling gently then planting soft kisses where his teeth had been.

"Mmm hmmm." One hand had wandered up to my breast, rubbing against the fabric of the shirt and making it much more difficult for me to concentrate on our conversation. Perhaps my news could wait a little longer...

"About bloody time," he said, and I could hear the humour in his voice, "It's been absolute murder waiting for hours to hear what it is." The snort of disbelief that came from me made him chuckle. "Don't get me wrong," he added, "it's not that I haven't thoroughly enjoyed the distractions you've been throwing at me for the past two hours..."

I snorted again and pulled away from him, turning to look into his face. Blue-green eyes sparkled mischievously and a cheesy grin pulled all his laughter lines into sharp relief. "Oh, you're a funny man now are you, Snorkeldink Compasstrap?" His guffaw egged me on. "So I'm the one who's been distracting you?" He gave another throaty chuckle and took a step closer, hands reaching out for me; I retreated a couple of paces to stay out of contact. "Oh no, Crumplebath," shaking my index finger in front of his face, "No, I'm just a distraction."

"You're the best kind of distraction sweetheart; sexy, kind, understanding..." I giggled at his blatant attempt at charming me back into his arms. Of course, I wanted nothing more than to be in his embrace, but he didn't need to know that - well, not too soon anyway. Oh, who am I kidding? He knows it already, I'm sure, but we're both enjoying the game.

"Not beautiful?" I pretended to pout, watching his eyes and seeing the moment when he would try to come closer again; I took another step backwards and he grinned in acknowledgement of my outmanoeuvring him.

"The most beautiful woman in the world," he assured me, his hands now resting on his hips - which only drew my attention to the fact that he wore nothing but his boxers and Hell's bells, he looked so damned hot I felt my core body temperature rise a degree or two and my cheeks sizzled with the effect he had on me. I knew from the look on his face and in his eyes that he meant what he said, it wasn't just a part of the game, and felt the blush spread lower, the heat going further down my body still.

An insistent tugging in my limbs moved me closer to him without conscious volition, bringing the distance between us to the approximate width of a silk scarf, and lifted my face to his in a silent plea. His mouth claimed mine with a touch so soft and tender I could almost believe I'd imagined it and a small gasp escaped me, whereupon the pressure from his lips became ardent and possessive, the passion building slowly through fiery and demanding to searingly sensual. He made a low growl at the back of his throat and I threw my arms around him just as he lifted me and headed back to the bedroom.

So much for our snack. And my news. Ah well, they could wait.

\---

When I opened my eyes I was alone in the bed. Listening, I heard him pottering around in the kitchen and smiled to myself; he loved making me breakfast. Sniffing, I smiled again; he was making crepes. I leapt out of bed, slipping into my robe and walking up behind him to place a kiss on his shoulder. He was wearing the trousers from his suit but was barefoot and bare-chested, his curls damp and smelling of my tangerine shampoo.

"Good morning chef. Have I time for a quick shower?"

"You'll have to be faster than a speeding bullet," he replied, flipping a crepe dexterously. "These are almost ready." Smiling at his Superman reference, I reached up to kiss his cheek, promising I would be quick. Six minutes later I was tucking in to crepes with lemon and sugar accompanied by fruit compote; it was delicious. Once the tea had been poured he pushed his plate away, rested his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands and looked at me with expectation. "Now, darling, I'm dying to hear your important news."

I told him all about meeting Mick and outlined his credentials; founding his own sound company with Don McLean as his first client, then doing sound for The Chieftains and his involvement as sound designer with Riverdance before joining with Eleanor and co-producing many of her albums. Then I hesitated.

"And?" Ben prompted gently.

Taking a deep breath, I said in a rush, "And he wants to produce a single with me and then an album."

The emotions flittering across his face were familiar to me; they were exactly how I felt whenever I saw him perform - pride, joy, love. Then he moved fluidly out of his chair and over to mine and the next thing I knew I was being lifted, strong arms holding me securely as my feet left the ground and I was twirled around and around, laughing at his exuberance.

"Cara, that's..." He shook his head, seemingly having trouble finishing his sentence.

"What's this?" I teased, bubbling with happiness. "The loquacious Beanbag Numbercrunch lost for words? Call the Guinness Book of Records!" He stopped turning and released his grip only enough to allow me to slide down so our faces were level. "You called it, Cumbers," I smiled at him, right hand caressing his jawline as my thumb glided over his lower lip.

"Told you so," he smiled back, then laid his mouth on mine as I buried my fingers in his curls and forgot everything other than the feel and smell and taste of him.

\---

"First concern?"

"We release a single; none of the radio stations play it so no one likes it and buys it, wasting hours of the production team's time and a lot of money that I would have to repay, not to mention the humiliation of abject failure."

We were on the couch, Ben's long legs propped on the coffee table and mine resting over his as I tucked myself into his shoulder, grateful for the warm strength of his arm around me. He knew I had reservations over making the album and had offered to talk through them with me.

"Choosing the song for the single is between you and your producer, so if you trust both your own and Mick's judgement, it shouldn't be a concern. As to no one liking the song - if the audience in Dublin liked it then that's a good indication. Have you sung it at a pub gig; did they like it there?"

I nodded. "It's been a while but yes, they seemed to like it."

He looked at me, the sunlight streaming in the windows accentuating the auburn strands in his hair and making his eyes brighter shades of blue, green and gold. He'd lost a little weight and his cheekbones appeared more chiselled than ever. I wanted to run my finger over his full lower lip and the sensuous curve of the Cupid's bow above it then follow my finger with my tongue and lips...focus Cara!

"Then let that knowledge allay your doubt, love. Now, getting the radio stations to play it is the job of your manager or promoter, so if that's not happening then they are not doing their job. Have you given any thought to acquiring a manager?"

Nodding, I told him about asking Rick and the reasons why. He didn't question my judgement, simply saying, "Good." I smiled. "Next?"

We went through each of my concerns, Ben addressing them with logic and confidence and, of course, a certain amount of experience in the entertainment industry - not trying to influence me, just making me aware of the options and solutions available so I could make an informed decision.

The last one, though, had him quiet for a while.


	35. Taking the Plunge

Well, there it was, I'd put it out there; my greatest concern about contemplating Mick's offer. I'd saved the best till last - well, okay, I guess I wouldn't really categorise it as the best, per se, but it was certainly the one that was giving me the most cause for pause. Ha ha, I'm a poet now.

Naïve as I was about how it all worked, I did at least know that the idea behind making an album is to get yourself known; this in turn hopefully leads to being asked to tour with someone more famous, making more albums and then eventually being a headliner rather than an opener, more albums, more tours, yada yada and then hey presto, the fame and fortune thing.

Which meant change, not just here and there, but to practically every aspect of my life as it presently stood; singing in pubs with the guys and teaching, not to mention having never been away from my family for more than a fortnight. Ever.

And I honestly wasn't sure that I wanted or could handle that degree of change. I'd always been resistant to new things - well, not always, but since...you know - so had been careful to only ever make small changes, a little at a time, so my equilibrium wasn't rocked by tidal waves of newness.

While I waited for Ben to voice his reaction, I concentrated on little things to prevent wandering off into anxiety attack land. I closed my eyes and worked my other senses, thinking about how safe it felt sitting here with his arms around me, how good he smelled, how it tickled slightly when his breath stirred the hair at my temples, the warmth of his thighs against mine, the reassurance offered by the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Change can be good; it can help us grow and move forward."

Without conscious thought, I went all Peter Pan on this one. "What if I don't want to grow?" Actually, I think I probably sounded more like a moody teenager who'd been told to do something they don't want to. Great Cara, you're a thirty two year old woman sounding like a fifteen year old whinger. I sighed, opened my eyes and looked at Ben, hoping to get some idea of how he felt. "Dammit Cumbers, you've got your actor face on."

"What does that mean?" The faint pull of his lips didn't quite make the sexy half smile I was hoping for.

"It's your defence shield, your invisibility cloak - the face where I can't tell what you're thinking or feeling."

"I'm trying not to influence your decision; it has to be yours alone - it's your future."

Ah. And there it is, the final niggling doubt that so far I hadn't mentioned. My future. A future that I had begun to hope - foolishly it now seemed - would include and involve him, and therefore he should have a say in. With those words, though, I felt something shrinking inside me even as I told myself not to get upset; sure, he'd told me he loved me, but he'd never so much as hinted at our relationship being a long term thing. Let's face it, we had happened with lightning speed - maybe he envisioned us burning out and ending at the same pace. It had barely been three months, after all - what the hell was I expecting? Perhaps he was thinking we'd nearly reached our expiry date and hoped the record deal would be a good distraction.

I got up, suddenly finding I couldn't take being that close to him, and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on. "Fancy a cuppa?" I managed to ask, keeping my back to him as I fought against the sense of loss that was beginning to overtake me. Putting his tea in front of him a few minutes later, I muttered, "I'm out of milk; I'll just pop out to the shop to get some," and grabbing my purse, headed out the door before he could do more than give me a searching look. I needed air, and space from him, and...oh God, I have no idea what else I need. A new heart that doesn't feel like it's being squeezed and mangled? Yeah, that'd be nice.

Milk obtained, my footsteps slowed as I turned back. I had to act as if nothing had changed - which it hadn't, I guess, for him at least. Maybe I could make up a story about having dinner with a friend so that...oh shit. Dinner. We were having dinner with my family tonight. I groaned out loud, startling an elderly woman walking past with a dog, who veered as far over on the footpath as she could to give me a wide berth. Great Cara, freak out the neighbourhood.

Ben wasn't on the couch when I returned, he was in the kitchen washing up our breakfast things.

"You shouldn't be doing that," I told him, putting the milk in the fridge and trying not to notice how amazing his bum looked in those trousers. God, I wanted to touch it so badly. "You cooked the meal; I wash up."

He merely shrugged - which meant then I had to not look at his shoulder muscles rippling under his shirt - and said, "I needed to do something."

I almost asked him what he meant but my feelings were still too raw, so instead I picked up a tea towel and dried as he washed, stacking things neatly away while we spoke barely a word to each other.

\---

Thank God for talkative Italians. Dinner with my family could have been total torture but my brothers and grandparents had plied Ben with enough questions, comments and ideas that there had been hardly enough silence for eating to take place and I hadn't needed to feel guilty about being so quiet. My insides churned while I did my best to maintain a calm front, repeatedly telling myself to just enjoy the moments with Ben and stop wondering how soon he was likely to end it.

Nonna, as usual, had excelled herself in the food department, making enough conchigilie pasta and pork meatballs to feed an army, let alone a man who conscientiously watched his weight. I had to hand it to her though; the strawberry, Vin Santo and mascarpone trifle she served for dessert could make anyone forget their diet. I had two helpings, justifying my greed to myself by saying they were small servings.

As Ben drove me home later we made small talk, neither of us bringing up the subject of the record deal. He opened my car door for me as usual and escorted me to my flat. "I won't come in," he said when I had my keys in my hands, his face again impossible for me to read. "I have an early start in the morning." I nodded understanding, caught between relief and heartache, closing my eyes against the sudden threat of tears as he held me in a close hug and kissed my cheek softly. "Goodnight Cara."

"Goodnight Benedict." The use of his full name slipped out unintentionally and I could have sworn I saw him flinch slightly in the porch light, but he turned and was walking away before I could be sure.

I spent a restless night tossing and turning; the next morning I called Mick and after speaking with him for twenty minutes, gave him my decision.

\---

"So is it a glamorous party or a quiet night in?" Rick's question as we packed up on Wednesday night thoroughly confused me.

"Sorry Rick, what are you talking about?"

"Friday night. Your boyfriend's birthday. Is he throwing a big party or will it be just the two of you and candlelight?"

Oh my God. In all that had been going on I'd completely forgotten that I'd arranged to have a night off so I could help Ben celebrate his birthday. I hadn't told him the news yet - but then again, he hadn't mentioned his birthday for a couple of weeks and I had no idea what was planned. In fact, I hadn't heard from him since he'd dropped me at home on Sunday night. Shit. The last few days had been more hectic than usual as I had a great deal to organise for the family music concert my students would be performing, as well as extra lessons. Still, you'd have thought he'd have let me know what he had organised - always assuming he wanted me to be involved, that is.

Right now Rick was looking at me, waiting for an answer, and I had no clue what to say.

"Cara? Is everything okay?"

No. Not at all. Everything is not okay. "Sure," I lied, trying to smile but knowing it didn't reach my eyes, then turned and carried a bag out to Marcus's van, getting a firmer grip on my emotions so that when Rick came out I could tell him cheerfully, "Better get some business cards printed Rick - as my manager, you'll need to be passing them out to everyone."

"You're doing it?" His eyes widened and a grin lit up his face as he gave me an excited hug, Marcus and Jake both following suit once they were told the news.

"Celebration drink?" Marcus suggested and we all agreed, heading back into Donoghue's where Patrick gave us a discount and agreed to my request that he make sure I didn't get drunk. I was miserable enough without a hangover to add to it.

By Friday morning I still hadn't heard from Ben. I looked at my phone, contemplating ringing him but hesitant; if he was in a recording studio somewhere, I didn't want to disturb him but then again, sending a text seemed so impersonal. I wavered for half an hour before finally plucking up the courage to call, figuring if he didn't want to be disturbed, he would have it on silent and I'd just end up being sent to voicemail.

And that's exactly what happened, so I had to leave an uncomfortable message with a disembodied voice in hopes he would listen and be prompted to respond. "Hi, it's me, just calling to wish you Happy Birthday. Um...I hope it's a good one...okay, see you."

I plodded my way through the rest of my day, checking my phone constantly and feeling a little worse each time there were no messages or texts, telling myself he'd be sure to get in touch once he'd finished working. Music lessons were going well and I was confident all my students would be ready for the concert by the following Saturday. Just after five o'clock I got a call to say the hall I had hired for the event had been flooded by a burst water pipe and the damage would not be repaired in time, so I spent a couple of hours on the phone trying to track down an alternate venue, never more thankful that a number of my students' parents were teachers and that school halls were relatively inexpensive to hire. Eventually I found something suitable, then had to rush a booking form and deposit around to the person in charge to secure it.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief once that was sorted, I saw the time and swore under my breath then took a quick shower and changed. I had decided to just head over to Ben's place and find out for myself what was going on. Seeing his lights on from the street, I thought about what I would say as I was climbing the stairs, only to hear music coming from behind his door as I approached it. I took a deep breath and knocked loudly.

A man's voice yelled, "I'll get it!" and the door opened. It was Tom, holding a drink in his hand. He smiled at me. "Hey Cara, nice to see you again. You're looking beautiful."

But I wasn't really paying attention; I was looking beyond him to the flat full of people talking, laughing and drinking. A party; Ben was having a party for his birthday without even bothering to tell me. Before I could make a fool of myself by bursting into tears, I thrust the gift I had brought into Tom's hands, asking him to get it to Ben, then turned and left as fast as my legs could take me, my heart bleeding and numb.

Well, that was one way of telling me it's over.


	36. At the Door

I ignored the knocking at the door, being in no state to see anyone. It wouldn't stop though, and soon was accompanied by a voice calling my name insistently. His voice. What the hell did he want? Come to make sure I got the message loud and clear?

"Go away," I told him through the door.

"Cara, let me in."

I snorted.

"Dammit, what is it with you and this door? Cara, let me in so we can talk."

"I don't think we have anything to talk about Benedict."

"Fuck. Why are you calling me Benedict?"

"It's your name; surely you're clever enough to deduce that?"

He mumbled something I didn't catch at my Sherlock dig, then said more clearly, "You only call me Benedict when you're angry at me or something is wrong."

"Newsflash, Brainiac; sometimes it's both."

The other side of the door was silent for a while before he spoke again, in a much quieter voice. "Why aren't you at Bob's tonight?"

"Oh I see; I was supposed to be at work and not been any the wiser about your little party."

"No! That's not what I meant at all." I snorted again, hearing a frustrated growl in response. "I didn't tell you about the party because I thought you would be working and I also didn't think you'd want to come."

Ah, so I was supposed to have worked out sooner that we were over, so that the whole birthday thing would be a moot point. God, what an idiot I was. "Well, I'm sorry I was so obtuse, but I get the point now Benedict; you can go back to the guests who are actually welcome."

"What? No, of course you're welcome, I just meant...Cara...I can't take these mixed messages. God, woman, you're driving me crazy!"

"Mixed messages? What are you talking about? The phone message?"

"No, not the phone...why would you think...Cara, if you want to end it, please just tell me and put me out of my misery."

But I don't...He...What? "Don't toy with me, that's cruel. You're the one who's ending it; I'm just the idiot too stupid to realise it sooner."

"What the hell? I am not ending it, what are you...Fuck! Would you please let me in? Talking to you through a door is..."

"You're not ending it?"

"No, of course not; I love you, why would I want to end it? Cara, would you please open this bloody door and..."

I cut him off. "Ben, I am completely confused right now and if I open the door I'm more than likely to punch you, so are you sure you'd like me to open it?"

He didn't answer immediately, but when he did his response was, "You called me Ben."

I laid my head against the door, tears threatening again. "Ben, please, I...I can't take much more..."

He groaned. "Darling, if you're going to cry, you have to let me in."

"I'm not crying."

"I can hear it in your voice. Sweetheart, please..."

I sighed and pulled myself under control. "I'm fine. I'm not letting you in."

There was quiet again before he said in a low voice, "Do you hate me that much?"

My heart wrenched. "I don't hate you, how could I hate you? Ben, I...if I see you I will want to touch you and I can't...whatever the hell is going on...before I lose my sanity all together...I know it's not ideal, but can we just talk through the door for now? Please?"

"Okay." He gave a deep sigh and I could picture him running his hand through his hair and the scruff on his chin. "Why do you think I'm breaking up with you?"

"Because you didn't invite me to your party or even tell me about it; because you haven't been in touch all week; because you were distant on Sunday night and because of what you said on Sunday morning," I listed.

"What did I say on Sunday morning that upset you?"

"You said...you said the decision was mine alone and that it was my future."

He was quiet again for a while. "What did you want me to say?"

Oh God, could I say it? What if he doesn't feel the same way, even now, in spite of all we're putting ourselves through here? Could I bear to have my heart broken any more than it is already?

"Cara, tell me, please love. What did you want me to say?"

"Ours." I said softly. "I wanted you to say ours." I took a deep breath. "I wanted you to say it was our future. I wanted you to tell me you would be there no matter what I decided and if I had to be away for months on end, you would be waiting for me, and I would do the same for you when you had to be away." I wiped my face, finding more tears I hadn't realised had fallen. "When you didn't, I thought...I thought you didn't want to be in my future. And then you didn't call me and you didn't tell me about your party, so..."

"So it just seemed to confirm what you were thinking."

I nodded, then realised he couldn't see that, so squeaked out a "Yes," instead.

"Oh Cara...I need you to know I was hoping for the same thing."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted you to say you wanted me to be part of the decision making and part of your future."

For the first time all week, a small ray of hope flickered in my chest. "You did?"

"But you didn't, and then you were so quiet at your grandparents' place and hardly said a word on the way home; you called me Benedict when we said goodnight...I thought you'd had enough of me and I didn't tell you about my party because I didn't think you'd want to come." I whimpered. "Then Tom told me you'd been and I knew that meant you weren't working at Bob's; it gave me hope and I had to come find out why." He took a deep breath, I could hear it clearly. "Cara...darling, I love you and I want to be in your future and I'll support you no matter what decision you make about the album. I want to be the one you miss while you travel the world on your sold out tour and I want to be who you come home to afterwards. Sweetheart...please open the door, I desperately need to see your beautiful face."

"There's just one more thing I need to tell you," I said, pulse racing and heart thumping madly.

"What's that love?"

"The door's not locked."


	37. In the Studio

"I love it," Mick stated over the microphone. "If you're happy with it, let's get it down."

Barely believing how great my song sounded with Mick's magical touches added, I told him I was happy and turned back to my guitar.

"Okay boys and girls, best behaviour this time; we're laying this baby down on track."

Once everyone was ready I counted myself in, plucking the first few chords. Jake, Rick and Marcus were all here with me; it was one of the stipulations I had made with Mick - I wanted them to be my band for the single at least, even if Mick added other musicians as well. After that, the guys could opt out if they wished, but if all of them were happy, they'd be with me for the album as well. They had to take time from their day jobs but I would make sure they were well paid to cover it - even if the album didn't sell; I'd find the money somehow. In my darkest moments when I had my doubts about its success, I tried to stay optimistic by telling myself at least I would have plenty of presents to give friends and family for Christmas.

When the last note died away, Mick gave me a grin and a thumbs-up through the glass window and Marcus made a joyful 'whoop' and came over to grab me for a hug.

"Your first single, Cara! Bloody ace!" I laughed and accepted congratulations from everyone before Jake called to Mick to play it back for us. We sat and listened and I felt as I imagined a mother would when seeing her child graduate and go off into the big wide world; my song was my baby and I was sending it out into the great unknown, hoping it would survive and thrive. I was exhilarated and terrified at the same time.

"Course, you know Cara," Rick said, putting an arm around my shoulder. "If the single does well we'll need to make a music video and get it up on YouTube."

"A video? You're kidding, right?"

He shook his head. "How many hit singles of the last twenty years don't have a video?" Dammit, he was right. I groaned and he laughed softly. "Cheer up, we'll keep it simple and let the song speak for itself - no weird gimmicks or anything. Class on a budget."

Slightly mollified, I told him, "All right - but if I'm going to be in a video, you three are too." Annoyingly, they didn't seem to be anyway near as daunted by the idea as I was.

\---

"What do you think about Greece?"

"Mmm, ambivalent I guess. It can be a bit tricky to get rid of, depending on the surface, but nonna swears by a mix of lemon juice and baking soda." I peered at Ben but couldn't see any stains on his shirt, jeans or visible body parts. "Turn around," I told him, spinning my hand to illustrate. He looked rather nonplussed but obediently turned on the spot for me. "Again, slower please."

"Darling, I was referring to the country. What on earth am I doing this for?" He looked puzzled as he slowly turned 360 degrees.

"The first time I was checking for signs of grease stains, but the second spin I have to admit, I was just admiring the scenery."

When he burst out laughing I felt a grin spread across my face and a tug in my chest. He laughed with the whole of his upper body; eyes sparkling and crinkling, lips drawn wide, shoulders shaking - even his fingers curled. It was adorable and sexy at the same time.

"Incorrigible wench," murmured his voice suddenly close to my ear, so deep and sensuous I'd swear my goosebumps had goosebumps. "My incorrigible wench," he gathered me into his arms, raining kisses all over my still grinning face before doing things to my neck that turned the grin into a gasp as I ran my fingers through the hair at his nape. "If we weren't going to my parents' for lunch, I'd..."

"You'd what? Don't stop there, you tease!"

Now we were both grinning, but instead of answering he kissed me and said, "I'll show you later," before releasing me. "Come on, wench, grab your things and on the way you can tell me how you feel about a few days holiday in Greece."

"Well goodness, Cumbers, if you'd said holiday in Greece in the first place I would have known what you were talking about and we wouldn't have had the whole baking soda conversation," I complained, obediently collecting my handbag and heading out the door towards the car. "Though it did give me the perfect opportunity to check out your lusciously admirable backside, so it wasn't a complete waste of time."

He shook his head and I'm sure I heard him mutter "bum fetish" under his breath as he opened my door for me. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer to plant my lips on his briefly before sliding into my seat, giggling. As we drove to his parents' house he told me he had a holiday home in Greece and thought perhaps we could get away for a short break as soon as I'd finished recording the album. It wouldn't be long after that we would both get very busy - him shooting a film and me promoting my single. "What do you think?"

Without hesitation I replied, "I think I'd better make sure my passport is still valid."

"You'll come?" His eyes were bright as they left the road briefly to shine in my direction.

He looked so boyishly hopeful that I swallowed back the cheeky retort I had planned to say, telling him instead, "I'd love to," and was rewarded by a happy smile that lit his face and made my heart perform cartwheels.

\---

"How's your new song coming along? Will it be ready to put on the album?" Mick and I were alone in the studio after a long day of working.

"I'm almost there, just got to get a last verse sorted."

"Can I hear what you've got so far?"

"Sure."

As I walked over to my stool I took a sip from my coffee cup and pushed my hair back from my face. Someone had turned the air off prematurely and it was warming up in here; it was definitely time to go home and shower off. Putting the cup down, I settled my guitar on my lap, closed my eyes and picked out the tune for the song I'd been writing.

 

I've never had anyone

That I could count on

I've been let down so many times

I was tired of hurting

So tired of searching

Till you walked in to my life

It was a feeling

I'd never known

And for the first time

I didn't feel alone

 

You're more than a lover

There could never be another

To make me feel the way you do

Oh, we just get closer

I fall in love all over

Every time I look at you

I don't know where I'd be

Without you here with me

Life with you makes perfect sense

You're my best friend

You're my best friend, oh yeah

 

You stand by me

And you believe in me

Like nobody ever has

When my world goes crazy

You're right there to save me

You make me see how much I have

And I still tremble

When we touch

And oh, the look in your eyes

When we make love

 

You're more than a lover

There could never be another

To make me feel the way you do

Oh we just get closer

I fall in love all over

Every time I look at you

And I don't know where I'd be

Without you here with me

Life with you makes perfect sense

You're my best friend

Oh, you're my best friend

 

"What do you think?"

"I think it's ready," Mick surprised me. "If you really feel it needs another verse, go ahead, but I think it's okay as it is - just repeat the chorus."

I thought about it and decided he might just be right.

"We'll try it tomorrow and see what you think," he suggested, and I happily agreed. "Now come on, let's get out of here before I turn into a werewolf."

I laughed, not having noticed it was a full moon outside. "It's probably about time they remade 'An American Werewolf in London'," I quipped as we turned off the studio lights and headed down the corridor towards the exit. "How's your American accent?"

"They sure wouldn't get me to play the lead," he responded, chuckling. "I'm far too old and grey - they'd need someone much younger and sexier." There was a brief pause before he added, "Maybe that Benedict Cumberbatch chap I hear so much about - he can do a good American accent."

I stopped in my tracks and looked at him, jaw dropping open. "How did..."

Mick stopped too and looked at me with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

"Eleanor told you," I accused.

He nodded. "She did. I haven't told anyone, I promise you..."

I waved a hand. "It's okay, I know you wouldn't." I'd grown very fond of Mick in the short time we'd been working together and each day was more and more sure I had done the right thing to trust him to produce my album. Now I looped my arm through his as we continued walking. "I should suggest it to Ben - he can look quite wolfish at times."

We both laughed then as we emerged from the building to be bathed in bright moonlight; looking up at the sky, I grinned and shook my head. Ben would make a good werewolf.


	38. One Fan, Two Fans

"Mick, how about a touch of violin on this section please, very plaintive." He gave a little wave and I saw he and Phil fiddling with controls. "I'll start again from the beginning of the second verse." He nodded and we went back to try again, Mick giving me a thumbs up as we continued on to the chorus.

We'd almost finished the album; the song we were working on today, called Change Your Mind, was the second last to be recorded - and hopefully would be my second single. Jake was singing back up for me and it felt so comfortable and familiar to be singing with him. After another three or four run-throughs both Mick and I were happy with the sound we had, so we laid down the track. I was thrilled with how smoothly it was all going; once or twice Mick and I had disagreed on minor details but I'd curbed my natural pigheadedness enough to listen to his suggestions and admitted afterwards that he was right.

"It's nearly five Cara; do you want to get started on the last song or finish up early?"

I looked at the friends and musicians ranged around me; they had all been working their butts off over the last few weeks and I felt they deserved an early finish. "Let's call it a night," I replied, rewarded by a huge smile from Marcus. "Got a hot date?" I asked him, giving him a quick hug when he beamed and replied in the affirmative. Everyone packed up and left, calling goodnight as they filed out of the studio, and after a few quiet words with Mick I departed as well.

The roads were clogged with the usual peak-hour commuter traffic and I slowly made my way through the throng of people hurrying for the Tube; knowing the trains would be full at this time of night, I took my time, in no rush to be packed like a sardine into the tin can that hurtled its way under the city streets. Tossing a gold coin to a busker playing Dylan tunes outside the station, I allowed myself to be swept along in the wave of bodies making their way down the stairs and along the passageways, ending up on a crowded platform as we awaited the next service. Thinking of Ben and our upcoming holiday, I was a bit slow to respond to a young couple trying to get my attention.

"Excuse me?"

I turned to them, expecting to be asked the time or directions to a tourist destination. "Yes?"

"Aren't you Cara de Luca?" the young man asked, the woman beside him nodding her head and smiling at me. He had a soft, lilting accent.

"Yes I am." Did I know them from somewhere?

"We thought so," they exchanged a glance and turned to me again, "We saw you in Dublin when you opened for Eleanor McEvoy."

"Oh!" Well, colour me surprised.

"We've been looking for a CD of your songs but we haven't seen any in the shops," the woman said. "Where can we get one? Do we buy it off you?"

If you looked up 'Italian version of a stunned mullet' in the Urban Dictionary, I'm fairly certain it would show a picture of my face as it looked in the few seconds before I was able to collect my thoughts enough to answer. "You can't yet. Actually, I'm working on an album right now and there'll be a single released soon, so...um...God, I don't even remember where they're going to be released." Is that terrible? You'd think I would know that vital little detail, wouldn't you? Yeah, me too, but - well, apparently not.

They suggested giving me their email address so I could send them the information, which I thought was very trusting of them; I could be a real weirdo or a cyber-stalker or something, for all they knew... "That would work, if you're sure." They were, so he wrote down the address while she talked to me about my songs and by the time our train arrived we were chatting like old friends. Paul and Marika, their names were. We squeezed our way into the packed carriage and kept talking music until Paul suddenly thought of taking a selfie of the three of us. After they'd gotten off, waving enthusiastically to me, I laughed out loud which earned me a strange look from the heavily-tattooed guy standing nearby - I just grinned and gave him a thumbs up until he turned away to find some other kooky bird to stare at.

Fans; I have fans - plural. Woo hoo!

\---

"Isn't it ready yet?" I was at Ben's flat, where he was making me dinner - and it smelled divine. Garlic, ginger and chilli had been teasing my olfactory senses for the past forty minutes, the rumbling of my stomach beginning to resemble Piccadilly Circus at rush hour and my mouth was watering so much you could stand me still in Hyde Park and call me a fountain.

"Only five minutes more, I promise." Ben was bending over the open oven, checking on the progress of the meal while I was bending over the back of his couch, checking on him. Well, a particular part of his anatomy at any rate - the one currently encased in dark trousers tight enough to almost double the amount of saliva I was about to drool all over his couch cushions. "Good god woman," he huffed, closing the oven door and turning to face me, "you are more impatient than my six year old god-daughter."

I swallowed. "Do you keep her waiting an hour for a meal? That's child cruelty, Flubberjack; are her parents aware of the inhumane treatment she receives at your hands?"

In one and a half strides of those long, muscular legs - also shown to distinct advantage in their current attire - he reached me and bent down just the right distance to press his lips firmly against mine. I think he probably meant it as a means of shutting me up and hey, who was I to complain? It was a win-win situation as far as I'm concerned. Should I tell him that it would only encourage me to talk, rather than discourage? Nah, he'll figure it out eventually I guess - he is Sherlock Holmes, after all. Brainy is the new sexy and all that. It was a very satisfactory way of spending those last five minutes too...

Half an hour later, with my tummy happily replete and a glass of chilled white wine to enjoy, I rose, gathering both our plates to take them out to the kitchen. Returning to the dining room, I came up behind Ben's chair and slid my arms around his shoulders, one hand slipping in the opening of his shirt to play with his chest hair while I gently nipped at his neck.

"Darling, that was a wonderful meal, thank you so much," I purred.

"Was it worth all the waiting and whinging?" he teased, tilting his head ever so slightly to allow me to reach the base of his throat.

"It was worth every second," I assured him, working my way back up his neck and taking his earlobe between my teeth; he gave a soft moan of pleasure and I hummed to myself. Moving to his side, I waited as he pushed his chair back from the table before perching on his lap, kissing him on the lips while I opened the buttons of his shirt and pushed it back from his shoulders.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Miss de Luca?" His hands came up to cradle my head.

"That is my current plan, yes, unless you have any objection?"

"None at all," he replied, "but perhaps you should ask whatever it is you want of me before we move this somewhere more conducive."

I stilled. "What do you mean?"

Oh, the twinkle in those eyes! I could drown in them, in spite of them twinkling at my expense. "I mean you obviously want something from me; go ahead and ask so we can get back to the you-seducing-me part," he grinned.

Dammit, the man saw right through me. Acknowledging this with a grin of my own, I took a breath and got straight to the point. "If you have any time to spare tomorrow," I was pretty sure he did, as he was currently just learning lines for his upcoming film, "I was hoping you could call in to the recording studio for an hour or two."

"I'd be happy to; any particular reason?"

"I'm recording a song I wrote for you."

His hand lifted my chin and we gazed into each other's eyes. "Sweetheart..." I melted at the love on his face. "I...I don't know what to say."

"Say yes," I whispered just before his mouth claimed mine again and he lifted me in his arms to carry me to his bed, where he said yes many times while he let me seduce him.

The next morning, with Jake on violin, Marcus on piano and Linda and Jeremy joining me on guitar, I recorded I Love The Way You Love Me in just two takes, with Ben sitting about five feet in front of me. And with that, the album was finished.


	39. Grecian Getaway

Ben's house was on the island of Zakynthos, a modest three-bedroom villa with its own private sandy beach and incredible views over the endless blue waters of the Ionian Sea.

"I think I'm in heaven," I told him as he showed me around the inside, from the modern kitchen boasting state of the art appliances to the cosy lounge with warm timber features and splashes of bold colour to accent the soft white furnishings. "Ben, this is lovely." From the balcony he pointed out the views across to the nearby island of Kefalonia and the Peloponnese peninsula, but my eyes were drawn back to the water and I couldn't wait to escape the humidity in its crystal clear depths.

Taking my bag from him, I entered one of the guest rooms and began unpacking.

"What are you doing?" his astonished voice asked from the doorway.

"I told my grandparents we'd be sleeping in separate rooms," I said, hiding my smile as I turned to place my hairbrush on the dresser.

"The whole week?" His voice sounded almost choked and I bit my lip to prevent me from laughing out loud at the look on his face, like a child deprived of a favourite toy. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Darling..."

"Relax," I said, walking to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "We can do plenty of non sleeping things in your room," I winked, "and besides, I was thinking a daytime nap or two in here would be enough to constitute 'sleeping' - don't you agree?" I took his low growl as agreement; he wasn't actually able to form words as I'd taken temporary possession of his lips and tongue and was in no particular rush to relinquish them.

"Last one in the water has to cook dinner," I said when we came up for air and laughed when he immediately let me go and rushed into the master bedroom to change. Giggling quietly at the sound of shoes dropping to the floor and Ben swearing at uncooperative shirt buttons, I quickly unzipped my dress and stepped out of it, picked up a towel and snuck out of the house as soundlessly as I could, making my way over the stone porch to the sandy path that led to the water. Tying my hair more securely atop my head as I stepped in, I sighed with pleasure and ventured deeper before plunging under the softly lapping waves.

Ben was just coming down the path when I surfaced. "How the hell did you get here so fast?"

I grinned. "Thinking ahead, Cumbers; I took the precaution of wearing my bikini under my clothes."

I just had time to admire his body before he too plunged into the shimmering water; although he'd dropped a little weight for his role as Alan Turing, he was still all toned muscle and washboard abs and I knew firsthand the strength in his arms and legs. He was also a little thinner around the face, which only served to further accentuate his amazing cheekbones and beautiful eyes. Goddammit, the man is gorgeous.

Those long arms pulled me to a halt as I was heading into deeper water. "You cheated," he accused.

I wrapped myself around him, laughing. "Being prepared is never cheating, Cupboardlatch. And FYI, nobody likes a sore loser."

Strong hands and arms immediately pushed me under and I swallowed a little water as I came up again, laughing and spluttering. We spent the next half hour taunting and dunking each other, giggling like children, though Ben's height and strength gave him the advantage and I'm pretty sure I ended up underwater a lot more often than he did.

As the sky began its transformation to yellows, pinks and purples, we sat on the balcony with a glass of ouzo and a platter of feta, cucumber, tomatoes and olives, enjoying the sun's dying warmth and each other's company.

"It's so beautiful," I sighed, relaxed and content.

Ben's hand took mine and raised it to his lips. "Incredibly beautiful," he agreed, but his eyes weren't on the landscape.

He didn't make dinner that night after all, nor did I take a nap in the guestroom.

\---

The next day - Sunday - Ben had arranged a chartered yacht, skippered by a cheerful, swarthy gentleman named Kyriakos who sailed us through the turquoise waters to Navagio Beach, also known as The Shipwreck beach, reputedly one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Initially hidden by huge lateral cliffs smothered in lush vegetation, the secluded bay appeared as if from nowhere, the wreckage of the Panagiotis sitting atop its pristine white sands.

From there we cruised to Marathonisi. A beautiful sandy beach famous for the sea turtles that nested there lay on the northwest of the island, but we were more interested in the caves at the south and once anchored nearby, swam and snorkelled around them until we had worked up an appetite and returned to the boat for a picnic lunch. Sitting under a canvas shade erected near the bow, I was glad for the respite from the heat of the midday sun.

"Darling, your shoulders are a little pink; come here and let me put some more sunscreen on for you." I obeyed willingly, closing my eyes in pleasure as Ben's hands massaged the cream into my shoulders and neck then continued down to my lower back, leaning into him a little as he spread more down my arms and our fingers ended up entwined. "Shall I do the front too?" he murmured into my ear, tingles spreading throughout my limbs at the husky tenor of his voice.

"I'm not entirely convinced you can be trusted," I told him as he nuzzled at my neck, causing a sensation somewhere between a shiver and a tickle. Whichever it was, tiny goosebumps erupted all down my recently sun protected arms.

"I don't know what you mean," he teased, squeezing our joined hands as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

"Sure," I taunted, turning my head to catch his eye, "because you're as pure and innocent as the driven snow."

At his grin I shook my head at him, picking up the bottle of sunscreen and rubbing it onto my front, then telling him to move around so I could replenish his too. I smiled to myself when he insisted on applying it to his own chest and stomach, claiming I couldn't be trusted either - well, he wasn't wrong.

Because we were interested in caves, Kyriakos took us next around the northwest coast of Zakynthos to see the Blue Caves, named after the effect the reflections from the water have on the cave walls. Had we been in a smaller boat we could have passed through some of them, but Ben and I were happy to snorkel through the more easily accessible ones before climbing back aboard. After that we simply cruised further around the island discovering incredibly scenic coves, bays and inlets, putting down anchor whenever and wherever the mood took us and jumping from the side of the boat to splash in the flawless azure waters.

\---

The air began to cool as evening approached and Kyriakos sailed us back to Zante. Ben and I slipped clothes on over our swim costumes and stood at the bow looking out over the endless sea, waves cresting as the sails snapped in the breeze. His arms enfolded me as I leaned back against his strong chest, loving the warm kiss of the sun on my skin and the ruffling of wind in my hair. "I think I need to let you organise my holidays more often, Cumbers - this is entirely too blissful."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, love."

We were sluicing through the water at an impressive pace now and suddenly an idea struck me. Spreading my arms out wide, I told Ben to do the same; he groaned when he realised my intent, but did it anyway, bless him. "You are a kook, Cara de Luca."

"Don't try to distract me, Cumbers. Now, on the count of three - one...two...three."

And we both yelled at the tops of our lungs, "I'm the king of the world!" after which I laughed, and turning in Ben's arms, kissed him and promised, "I'll say the other famous line for you later when we're alone."

"Other famous line?"

"For girls it is," I told him, smiling when he looked puzzled.

A few hours later, after we'd gotten back to his house, showered and eaten dinner, I led him to the bedroom and made good on my promise; peeling off my shorts and t-shirt then the underwear beneath, I looked at him through lowered lids and said, "Put your hands on me, Jack."

\---

The hair on Ben's chest tickled my cheek, as I lay snuggled into him half way between awake and asleep. The crescent moon shone through the tall windows with an eerie light, painting our skin with a translucence that would appear almost ghostly if one were in a fanciful frame of mind.

"Today made the list," I murmured, too tired to remember if I'd ever told Ben about my list.

"What list sweetheart?" No, I obviously hadn't.

"My Best Day Ever list," I enlightened him, "Today bumped the day I won the spelling bee off the top five."

"The one you won when you were eight by spelling incorrigible?" Oh my God, he remembered! Sweet, wonderful, adorable man! I should kiss him all over - and I would, if I weren't so darn lethargic. Well, that's okay; I did it earlier anyway. I'll do it again in the morning, just to be thorough. "I'm flattered, and terribly glad."

I burrowed my head into his shoulder and sighed peacefully.

"What else is in your top five?" he asked, his fingertips lightly tracing random swirls down my arm.

"The first day I sang to an audience." I lifted up one finger. "The day I went to live with my grandparents." Second finger. "The day I met you." Number three. "The day I finished recording my album." That's four. I've got one finger left. There should be a number five. What the heck was number five? Oh yes! Today. "And today," I concluded.

"One day soon I hope to add another day to your list."

"It's going to have to be pretty spectacular to top today," I warned him. "What've you got planned?" I twisted my head to look at him. "You know I don't do well with surprises, right?"

He gave me a small smile and nodded, "Yes, love, I know."

"All right then, spill."

Tightening his arms around me then kissing the top of my head, he spilled. "In the not too distant future, when you've gotten accustomed to whatever your new life as a successful recording artist will be like, and we've found a way to still prioritise each other, despite our demanding careers," I gave him a squeeze to indicate I liked the sound of those things, "then there will come a day when I will be before you on bended knee with a diamond ring in my hand and an important question to ask."

Holy mercy.

"What do you think about that, darling?"

"I think...I think..." What the hell do I think? "I think..." Come on, Cara, you must think something. "I think...with you in my life...I might need to extend my list from top five to top ten." It was possibly not exactly the answer he was looking for, and any other man may have been dissatisfied with it, but Ben understood - I could see that in the look he gave me, and in his kiss.

"If the answer to the important question should happen to be 'Yes', then I'll see what I can do to extend that list out to twenty...then fifty...then a hundred...to a thousand, and more."

I liked the sound of that. I liked it a lot.


	40. Thank You, Colin

Over the next few days we didn't wander far from the house and beach. Each morning fresh food was delivered from the nearby village and just last night we'd wandered down to the local taverna to enjoy a meal; it seemed as if Ben knew almost everyone there and they greeted him cheerfully, laughing and joking. Although he'd taught me a few words of Greek, I didn't have a hope of keeping up with the lively conversations he had with some of the elderly residents, so I happily sat and watched faces and gleaned as much as I could from expressions and body language, aided by Ben whispering snippets to me when he got the chance. The younger people spoke English of course and one middle-aged matron was originally from Verona, so we conversed in Italian.

"I thought you said your Greek was worse than your Italian," I challenged him after he'd carried on a lengthy discussion with two local fishermen. "You speak it far better than you let on."

"Did I say that? I must have been trying to impress you with my Italian," he grinned; I laughed, punched his chest playfully and threatened to give him lessons. When he kissed me soundly in response everybody around us cheered and whistled, calling comments in Greek that, judging by the grins on their faces and the blush on Ben's cheeks, it was lucky I didn't understand.

He spent part of each day learning his lines for The Imitation Game and I would either help him or catch up on my reading or, if the muse struck me, work on writing new songs. Having had the foresight to bring my guitar with me, I would sit under a large shady tree looking out over the sea and compose until a tall, handsome actor would appear to distract me and we'd end up either in the water or the bedroom.

\---

"How open are you to indulging me in a little fantasy role play?" I don't think that was quite the question Ben was expecting in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, judging by the small choking noise he made. "Keeping in mind," I pointed out, "how many times I've worn my naughty maid outfit for you..."

"Darling, I..." he stopped to clear his throat, "I thought you enjoyed the naughty maid outfit as much as I do." Is he blushing?

"I do, love, but I have this one particular fantasy..." He groaned. "Did you bring a white shirt with you? And some nice trousers?" His eyes narrowed and he looked at me quite intently. "Are you trying to deduce me, Sherlock?" I teased.

"I'm not sure it's worth my time trying, you almost always manage to surprise me with the things you say."

I lay my book aside and chuckled as I got up from the lounger I had been relaxing on and moved over to his, sitting astride his lap and leaning forward to push an errant curl off his forehead. In a loose cambric shirt, cut off jean shorts and a pair of flip-flops, he looked every inch the holidaymaker. The only thing out of place was the thick script he had been reading from, which I now plucked from his fingers and put on the floor beside the chair.

"Please, love?" I pouted and fluttered my eyelashes at him quite blatantly, walking my fingers up his chest and the side of his face before running them through his hair, tugging gently. When he closed his eyes and gave another faint groan I knew he'd say yes.

"You are an incorrigible wench."

Laughing in victory, I leaned forward to nibble at his lips before telling him to change and meet me at the beach. I picked up my sunhat and phone and headed down the path and it wasn't long before Ben appeared in form-fitting trousers and a white shirt that showed off his physique to breath-stopping effect.

"They're not horribly expensive or dry-clean only, are they?" I wanted to be sure I didn't force him to ruin any irreplaceable items of clothing.

"No, they're...what on earth have you got in mind?" He looked at me then at the water, then back to me. "Oh no..." I saw him become suspicious. "Oh hell, you haven't been reading Pride and Prejudice again, have you?"

I dimpled and nodded, bursting into a wide grin when he cursed, "Damn Colin Firth and that bloody lake scene!"

Taking his face in my hands, I peppered quick kisses all over it, pleading, "Please, love, for me? Be my Mr Darcy."

"Dammit woman!" he sighed, heading for the water. "It's sexual objectification I'll have you know!"

"Yes darling, but I can't help it if the thought of you in a clinging wet shirt gives me goosebumps all over - now undo some buttons please and go a bit deeper."

He waded farther out before diving under; when he surfaced and swept his slick hair back from his face, white shirt sticking to his torso like a stamp to a letter - apart from where the open buttons showed tantalising glimpses of abdominal muscle and softly curling chest hair - the wallop to my ovaries almost knocked me off my feet. Oh dear Lord in Heaven - forget mere goosebumps, the sight before me had me acutely aroused. I wanted to offer myself to him right there and then on the beach, to beg him to possess me, sand in uncomfortable places be damned. Clenching my thighs together, with trembling fingers I took my phone from my pocket and snapped some photos, Ben grumbling and growling the whole time - which only made him a more perfect Darcy, if he but realised it. Even viewed through the camera lens he was decadently enticing and by the time he strode from the waves and stood before me, water cascading from every long, sexy inch, I had completely lost the power of speech. That had to be a record.

"Are you happy now, love?"

Happy? Oh Benedict, happy doesn't even begin to cover it. Try desirous, feverish, impassioned, wanton or lustful. Heck, even horny would do to convey what I am feeling right now. Still incapable of words, I simply nodded and looked up at his face - and it wasn't easy to tear my eyes from that body, believe me. How can someone look so incredibly erotic fully clothed? Damn! As our eyes locked and he recognised the look on my face, I heard his breath catch.

"I...I should get out of these wet clothes," he murmured, his voice a little rough around the edges. I was terribly conflicted - in the wet shirt or out of it? Oh hell! He began to undo more buttons but I put a hand on his arm to forestall him, shaking my head then holding up a finger to indicate I wanted him to give me a minute. I gazed again at the glorious, sinful sight of him, walking around him only to lose my breath again when I beheld the shirt clinging to every muscle in his back. Then my eyes moved down to the sopping trousers and how they accentuated that amazing derriere; moving back in front of him, I couldn't help but notice another part of his anatomy perfectly outlined by the saturated garment and my loins flipped over, exclaiming 'That's it; I'm done.'

"Yes," I croaked, looking into Ben's eyes once more, imagining how dark mine must be when I saw the extent of dilation in his. Without tearing his gaze from mine he quickly divested himself of all clothing then reached for mine when it became apparent to him that I wasn't capable of doing it myself.

Then I did exactly what I'd been imagining: I offered myself to him and begged him to possess me, which - thank goodness - he did. And I did get sand in uncomfortable places, but it was worth it. Oh God yes, worth Every. Single. Grain.


	41. Nine Tenths of the Law

A month. I can't believe it's been a whole month since Hold Back the River was released. Rick worked his butt off to get it playing on the smaller radio stations around the UK and just last week some of the larger stations had picked it up and it was now getting a lot of airing. As interest built I'd been asked to do interviews, so had been driving around with Rick talking briefly about the song and upcoming album. Yesterday we'd released my second single, Change Your Mind. It's all very surreal and I'm often pinching myself to check this is actually happening.

We'd made a music video for the single too. Rick – who had thought ahead and taped our studio recordings – had suggested a simple outdoor location so the video could cut back and forth between indoor and outdoor shots, and he'd then found us a beautiful spot in Ashley Park at Walton-on-Thames. An area had been cordoned off for us to use and once we got started people began turning up to listen. By the time we had sung the song a number of times for the video we had attracted quite a crowd, who were very good at being quiet but then clapped and cheered enthusiastically at the end. When they called for more I quirked my brow at the guys and at their nods, we began another song from the album, then another and it turned into a little mini concert. Finally we couldn't presume on the goodwill of the local council any longer and had to pack up; Rick urged me towards the crowd as some had questions, so I talked about the album to everyone who asked.

"Can we take a selfie?" A teenaged girl and her friend asked – they looked about fourteen.

"S-sure," I managed to stutter, moving between them and smiling brightly while the taller of the two held a phone out in front of us. One of them wore a Mumford & Sons tee so we talked about their music until I realised the guys were all packed and ready to go. Giving my thanks and farewells, we climbed into the van again and I'm not going to lie; I was on rather a high from the experience.

Let out near Ben's place, I climbed the stairs to his flat still on cloud nine thinking about my day and gave a rat-a-tat-tat on his door.

"Hello handsome," I greeted him when he opened up wearing a blue shirt I loved on him together with dress jeans that looked like he'd been poured into them. "Whoa; hotness alert." Running my eyes up and down his length appreciatively, I grinned at his look of discomposure; he still got embarrassed at being told how gorgeous he is because he believed he was nothing special to look at. Crazy man.

Reaching for me, he murmured, "Come here, you beautiful kook," before his lips claimed mine and I gasped into him as his tongue plundered my mouth, my hands reaching behind him to roam over his strong back and down to the object of my obsession, where I let them rest until I was finally allowed to draw another breath. "You've been stealing my hat again, I see," he said – but he was smiling, so I knew he didn't mind. I had borrowed his flat cap, which I now wore so often it was shaped more to my head than his.

"It's going to be in my first – and possibly only, if it's a bust – music video," I told him, "so I really think ownership should pass to me now. Possession is nine tenths of the law, after all."

One expressive eyebrow raised a good inch and he gave that little half smile that caused a pool of lust in my nether regions every single time, dammit. "Is that right?"

"Mm hmm. All the good cop shows say it."

His eyes twinkled. "What are you going to give me in recompense?"

"Well now," I drew my words out while my hands moved up to his chest and began playing with the buttons on his shirt as his arms tightened around my middle, "I'm open to negotiation; what do you have in mind?"

"There is something I need your help with, something I have been aching for, for some time now." Aching? Good Lord, is he talking about something...in the bedroom? There's not much we haven't...well, I guess there's a couple of things... "Something I just haven't been able to manage on my own." Holy crap; he's tried it on his own? Oh, I think the mental images I'm picturing right now might be too R-rated even for me and I know for sure my breath is hitching and that pool of lust is fast attaining Great Lake proportions...

"Um...okay...what..." I had to swallow and clear my throat. "What is it?"

He leaned in closer, so close his warm breath tickled my neck before I felt soft lips leave a light kiss at the base then create a trail up to my ear. "I have an itch," he whispered, and I closed my eyes, "that I just can't reach," my knees felt weak so it was lucky he was holding on to me so firmly, "in the middle of my back. Would you scratch it for me?"

Oh good Lord...wait...what? An itch in...the middle of his back? What the? Pulling my head back to look in his face, I found the biggest, cheesiest, shit-eating grin I had ever seen in my life and I almost choked on the spluttering sound that came out of my throat. "Why you...you..." By now his whole body was shaking with barely suppressed amusement and I heard the rumble of laughter begin in his chest seconds before it was released from his cheeky, tortuous, luscious lips. The laugh lines around his eyes and mouth deepened to crevasses as I pounded his torso with my fists. "You rat!" But of course it wasn't long before I was chortling along with him – well, let's face it, who could possibly resist this adorable man practically doubled over in laughter? Not me; I'm only human. When we settled down a little, only small giggles bursting out every now and then, I turned him around and scratched his back for him while he groaned in pleasure when I found the exact spot he'd been unable to reach, even with his long arms and fingers.

"Oh fuck, that's amazing. God; that itch has been driving me nuts for ages, love – I'm so glad you dropped by."

"Well, it's nice to know I'm useful for something," I teased, pressing a kiss to the place I'd been scratching just before he turned around to face me, eyes sparkling and another grin on his face.

"You have your uses," he agreed cheekily, "I think I'll keep you around for a while longer."

"Oh yeah? I'm not too simple and boring for a man with an MA and Hollywood at his feet?"

He gathered me quickly into his embrace, fingers under my chin to tilt it up so he could look into my eyes. "You are many things, Cara de Luca, but simple and boring are most definitely not on the list." This time his kiss was slow and sweet and my knees wobbled.

"But just so you know," I told him in between placing light kisses all over his jaw, "when you lose all your talent and your sexy looks fade, I'm replacing you with a newer model."

"Oh?"

"Mm hmm; should take about fifty or sixty years, I think – give or take."

He took in a deep breath. "Does that mean when I ask you that special question, the answer will be yes?"

"Maybe," God, I loved teasing him, "or maybe I'll be the one asking the question."

He seemed rather taken with that possibility, if the smouldering look he gave me was anything to go by. And how he put an arm under my knees, another around my back, then picked me up and in just a few strides from his long, strong legs carried me down the hallway and threw me on his bed before proceeding to have his wicked way with me.

\---

A week later I was on my way to visit my grandparents and called in to John Lewis on Oxford Street, wanting to pick up a new flat cap for Ben seeing that I'd basically purloined his for my own. As usual on a Saturday morning the place was packed; wandering around the menswear department I realised I could hear a familiar guitar chord and stopped dead in my tracks. Holy mother of mercy! I stayed frozen in place as my voice came over the store's sound system, barely breathing when the radio announcer spoke after my song had finished. "That was Hold Back the River by new artist Cara de Luca and you're listening to BBC Radio 2 with Graham Norton. Join me later for Tune with a Tale ..." A man brushed past me brusquely, bringing me out of my reverie and I released the breath I'd been holding, noticing my hands were shaking. Well, hearing yourself on national radio will do that to you, I guess. Oh my God, I'm on national radio!

"Cara, dolce ragazza; vieni, vieni." (Cara, sweet girl; come in, come in.)

"Ciao nonna." I submitted to my grandmother's usual embrace, mouth watering when I recognised the aroma of her scampi gratinati. We chatted about family things while I helped set the table, waiting until nonno and Marco had joined us and we were all seated at the table before telling them about hearing my song on the radio.

"It's at number seventy-eight on the Top 100 singles chart," Marco told me, causing me to almost choke on the bite I'd just taken.

"What?"

"And your video's on MTV; nonna recorded it."

"Seriously?" They all nodded at me, my grandparents both smiling, so I knew it wasn't just Marco pulling my chain. "Well, cover me in marinara sauce and call me spaghetti," I mumbled, an expression my dad used to say when I was a kid but that I hadn't heard, or said, in years. I wondered if Rick knew about these developments, and if he did, why he hadn't told me, making a mental note to call him later.

After lunch Marco played the recording for me and although I'd seen the video before, naturally – I'd given it my approval before it was released, of course – watching it with my family was a completely different experience and somehow made it all so much more real.

\---

In the end, I hadn't needed to call Rick, as he had called me. We talked about the singles charts and MTV and then he stunned me with some unexpected news.

"You've heard of Graham Norton haven't you? He does a TV interview show."

"Well duh, is the Pope Catholic?" I responded sarcastically.

"Okay good, well – he's invited you to be on his show and sing your new single."

I made him say it again, certain I had heard wrong the first time. "That's what I thought you said," I managed after he'd said the same incredible sentence.

Graham Norton.

National television.

Estimated number of viewers per episode: four million.

Oh. My. God.


	42. Two

Two Weeks Before

"Right, here's how it will be structured – you'll have a very brief on screen segment at the beginning of the show when Graham introduces all his guests, then he'll do the other interviews and the musical number is the last item before he does the Red Chair."

I nodded, knowing this already; I'd seen the show plenty of times.

"Decide what you want in terms of musicians and back-up singers and give me an idea of stage decoration so I can get those organised. After you've sung, he'll invite you to join the other guests on the couch and ask you a few questions about the single and the album; probably three or four minutes, tops. Just make sure you know all the key figures and dates and you'll be fine."

"Okay."

"Here's a list of the other guests for that night."

I glanced at it, too keyed up to really care until one particular name leapt out at me. "Is this a joke?" I asked Rick.

"No." He knew exactly what I was talking about.

"You didn't put this here to wind me up?" He shook his head, eyes looking into mine. "This is genuinely who's going to be on the show the same night?" When he nodded I sat - quickly, before my legs gave way – and began breathing so rapidly I wondered if I was about to hyperventilate.

"Cara, are you okay? Oh shit – do you need a paper bag?"

Yeah, wouldn't hurt. I gave a brief nod then put my head back and closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on slowing my breathing and not on that list...

"Here." Rick put a brown paper bag into my hand and I leaned forward to breathe into it, still attempting to clear my mind of the thoughts racing around at six thousand miles an hour. Breathe, Cara...in...out...in...out...repeat. Keeping the mantra going until my heart rate normalised, I noticed how anxious Rick looked; I reached my hand out to his and squeezed it in reassurance. "Better?" he asked.

"Better," I replied.

"If you want me to cancel it, or see if I can get a different date, I will."

My head shook from side to side. "No, it's fine, it was just...a bit of a shock." He looked concerned still. "It'll be fine, Rick, honestly." Well, I think it will; I hope it will. Oh Lord.

"Talk it over tonight maybe and let me know tomorrow if you need anything changed?"

"Sure."

Later on I sent a text to Ben, asking him to call in at my place on his way home, if it were at all possible, or to ring me if not. He was filming at Bletchley and in peak traffic the hour and a half journey could easily stretch to two or more, making it a long and tiring day for him.

He did manage to drop by, arriving around seven thirty looking rather weary. Turning down my offer of dinner, saying he'd eaten already, he did however look interested when I offered to run him a nice hot bath. "Are you going to join me?" he asked, running a hand down my back.

"You need a relaxing bath," I told him – though I was sorely tempted. He pouted, but I just chuckled softly, telling him, "Perhaps I might manage a massage afterwards for those poor tired limbs of yours."

"Now you're talking," he growled, making me chuckle even louder.

Once he was soaking in the tub I poured him a gin and tonic and sat down nearby on a stool. "Have you by any chance spoken to Karon today?" I asked him; Karon is Ben's publicist.

"No love; why? Is there something you need to know?"

Mmm, no, not exactly. "You remember I said I was invited to be on Graham Norton?" He took a sip of his drink, ice clinking as he looked at me over the top of the glass and nodded. "I got the details today and the list of other guests."

His eyebrows rose enquiringly. "Anyone I know?"

Well, goodness Cumbers, that leaves the field wide open. But yes, now that you mention it... "You could say that," I told him, smirking a little as I unfolded the sheet of paper Rick had given me and held it up so Ben could read it.

"Ah," is all he said.

"Rick wants to know if I need to change it." I looked right into his beautiful blue-green eyes. "Do I need to change it?"

"Sweetheart, I...fuck, I don't know...this is new territory for me. Tell me what you're thinking."

I gave him a look through my lashes and began to grin. "I'm thinking it could be a lot of fun," I said, watching him shake his head at me before his half smile turned into a grin to match mine.

"Incorrigible wench," he muttered, and we both laughed.

Two days before

"Ben tells me your song is at number two," James says as we wait for the coffee. "That must be an incredible buzz."

"Congratulations," Tom pipes in before I can respond. "It's a great song; best 99p I've ever spent."

"Tom, you bought it? I gave you a copy, what are you doing paying for it?"

"Supporting the artist," he smiled.

I gave him a grateful look and squeezed his forearm then turned to James. "It is a buzz, James, I can hardly believe it. I keep looking at the charts expecting to see it back at seventy eight." I shook my head. "Still so unreal."

"Is that the song you're singing on Norton?" Hattie asked.

"No, I'm singing my second single. Oh, that reminds me – Ben, may I borrow one of your black waistcoats?"

Ben nodded as he set down the tray full of cups of coffee and began handing them to everyone. "Of course, love; we'll work out rental terms later," he told me with a broad wink – which, of course, everyone else saw as well. I blushed while they all laughed.

Damn the man; I need to pay him back for that one. "As long as you don't want to wear my lacy panties again," I smiled at him, "You never give them back and I constantly have to buy more."

Next to me, Tom snorted his coffee from his nose and Hattie made a choking sound as she swallowed loudly and set her cup down on the table with a clunk, the steaming hot liquid almost spilling in the process. I passed Tom a napkin.

"Cara! Fuck!" Ben had gone beetroot red while the other three seemed to be in a state of shock, almost as if they weren't sure whether to believe me or not. Nobody would meet Ben's eye except me and I gave him a grin that would easily rival that of the Cheshire cat, returning his wink for good measure. "You...God, woman! Tell them it's not true!"

"Of course it's not true, Snagglepatch," I said sweetly in a voice that implied the exact opposite. Oh my God, his face! I wonder if I could whip my phone out and take a photo – no, too late. Ben strode around the table and attacked me, making me squirm and wriggle like a worm on a hook as he tickled me until tears ran down my face and I had to cry for mercy.

"Tell them," he growled into my ear.

"It's not true, it's not true," I said, gasping for breath and still laughing from the tickling. Ben kissed my ear and released me as the others laughed too.

"Are you sure?" James grinned, "He had a stash of them in his cubicle at Harrow."

Ben threw some sugar cubes at him as we all cracked up again.

Two hours before

Everything was set up and we'd just done our sound check; Rick on drums, Marcus on piano, Sally on violin and Jake on guitar and back up vocals. My guitar was waiting for me next to my mic and the sound technicians had everything ready to go. In an hour I had to be in make-up, so we had a little time to kill; the others decided to have a cup of coffee but I didn't need the stimulant – I was looking to calm my nerves, not get them ramped up. I went through my usual pre-performance self-talk, reminding myself yet again to think of it as just the studio audience and completely forget the TV aspect. Rick saw me checking my hair and outfit again and assured me I looked great – I had my hair in a plait and was wearing the wine red skater dress I'd first met Ben's parents in, this time teaming it with Ben's waistcoat and ankle boots with a nice solid heel – I wasn't taking any chances on tripping. Lord knows it would be enough of a challenge for me to stay upright just from sheer nerves, let alone stiletto heels.

I wondered what Ben was doing right now and what he was wearing - a suit and tie, probably. Black, blue or grey? Hmm - the black, I bet. I hoped so; he looks particularly gorgeous in a black suit and tie, I think – but then, I guess I'm a little biased.

The two make-up artists chatted in a friendly manner when it was my turn in the chair then I had no time for more than a very quick introduction to Graham before being shown to the backstage area I would be in until it came time to go on. Rick and the others were off to one side as there'd be a camera panning to me for my introduction at the start of the show and I had a marker on the floor to show me exactly where to stand. There were monitors here so we could see what was happening on the set, which I was thankful for as I was looking forward to watching the other guests.

I looked over at the guys, who all gave me a smile and a wink.

Two minutes before

The commercial break was almost over and we were taking up our positions on stage. I walked up to the mic and picked up my guitar, feeling the familiar thrill as I put the strap over my shoulder and adjusted it in my arms, making sure my fret was set correctly and lightly running my fingers over the strings. We made a good team, my guitar and I, I thought; we'd been through a lot together and now here was another new challenge and new experience for us.

Breathe, Cara. You've got this.

"And now it's time for our musical number. Her first single is sitting at number two in the charts and she's here tonight to sing her latest release, Change Your Mind, from her upcoming album. Please welcome Cara de Luca."


	43. Today is Friday

When you wake up wanting me

And you can't go back to sleep

Change your mind

When you're weak and all alone

And you're reaching for the phone

Change your mind

Keep on going till you're gone

Even when you think it's wrong

When you look back in regret

The moment that you left

 

Change your mind

Baby don't come back this time

Don't want to have to say goodbye

All over again

So if you think there's still a chance to make it right

And I'm the only one you want tonight

Change your mind

Change your mind

 

In the early morning haze

When my kiss is all you crave

Let it go

Cause I don't wanna do that dance

The push and pull, the second chance

I already know, yes I know

You'll just promise me forever

And then you'll take it back, just like that,

Say you can't live without me, then you'll

 

Change your mind

So baby don't come back this time

Don't want to have to say goodbye

All over again

So if you think there's still a chance to make it right

Change your mind

 

Cause I don't want to have to say goodbye

All over again

So if you think there's still a chance to make it right

And I'm the only one, the one you want tonight

Change your mind

Change your mind

Change your mind

 

"Beautiful, beautiful! Come on over, nice lady." I took off my guitar and walked towards Graham, who was headed my way; as the audience applause died down he took my hand and led me to the couch area where the other guests were rising from their seats. He scooted back around to his chair muttering a form of introduction while I greeted the famous personalities who'd been promoting shows and movies tonight. "Here's Jack Whitehall..." Jack was at the end of the couch where I would be sitting; I shook his hand and said hello. "Benedict Cumberbatch..."

Ben took my hand and pressed a kiss to my cheek, whispering in my ear, "I love you," even though I'd told him not to say anything to make me nervous.

"And Harrison Ford." The legendary actor followed suit with a handholding and cheek kiss while I told him it was a great pleasure to meet him. Which it was – I mean, Han Solo for Pete's sake. Holy shit. When he murmured that my singing was beautiful I think I replied something grateful then had to take my seat in a hurry before my legs gave way.

"Cara, it's lovely to have you on the show and thank you for singing for us; it was really beautiful."

"Thank you Graham, and can I please also take this opportunity to thank you for your radio show support; I'm very grateful."

"Not at all, it's a pleasure. They're wonderful songs, they really are. Now, your first single is at number two on the charts right now." The audience applauded, which he encouraged.

"Yes, I'm still pinching myself about that one, literally." I held out my left arm, underside up, to show some small bruises along my inner forearm.

"Are those real bruises? Are you really, seriously pinching yourself?"

I pointed at one bruise and said, keeping my eyes on Graham, "Well, this one my boyfriend made, but the rest are mine." I thought I heard a small noise from Ben's vicinity but daren't so much as glance in his direction.

"And your second single was released, ah..." he consulted his cards, "two weeks ago?"

"Yes."

"And it's doing well?"

"Very well; I believe it's at number sixty-seven."

Graham's mouth made a small moue before he said, "Sixty-three, according to my research."

"Oh well, yours is better than mine, so we'll go with that." I smiled.

"That's not a phrase I hear very often," Jack interjected, "Yours is better than mine, I mean. You would probably hear it all the time though Benedict...and Harrison, of course."

This time the small noise came out of me. Oh God. Don't look at him Cara. Do. Not. Look. At. Ben.

We all gave a laugh, as did the audience, then Graham swivelled in his chair, reaching into a cupboard as he said he had a copy of my CD; once he found it he held it up so the audience could see it.

"And the name of your album is...New Beginnings and it is available when?"

"It comes out on...Saturday," I replied, "or tomorrow, rather."

"Today," Graham corrected, giving me a look I couldn't interpret. Seeing my puzzled expression he said, "Today being Saturday," and raised his brows at me.

"Today is Friday," Harrison stated firmly, then Ben and Jack both explained to us that although the show is recorded on a Friday night, it doesn't screen until Saturday evening.

"Oh," we both said.

"So, it's released today," our host smirked.

"Graham, I'm sorry," I opened my mouth without thinking (note to self: must stop doing that). "If Han Solo says today is Friday, then today is Friday – so my album comes out on Friday." I looked at Harrison. "I'll square it with the marketing people, don't worry." He gave a small smile and nodded at me. Swoon. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ben smiling too, though he appeared to be looking down at his shoes. He'd already had his own Harrison moment earlier, when the iconic actor had told him he was a fan and Sherlock was amazing; I'd felt such a surge of pride hearing that, I'd wanted to kiss him till my lips dropped off.

Graham smoothed over that moment. "And are we likely to see you touring any time soon?"

"In my dreams I'm touring with Adele or Ed Sheeran," I replied, "So if you have any influence with either of those people it'd be great; otherwise, nothing on the horizon just yet."

"They've both been on the show, but...no." His head shook and I raised my arms with an "oh well, better luck next time" kind of expression. He wrapped it up by wishing me the best of luck with the album release and my singles and then I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. I could sit back and relax and enjoy the stories in the Red Chair along with everyone else.

Catching Ben's eye and knowing there was no camera filming my right side, I sent him a quick wink; he did a great job at remaining impassive but I saw the tiniest little pull at the corner of his mouth.

\---

"Benedict Cumberbatch, you are so hot right now!" I quoted Graham Norton's words at Ben as I tugged at his shirttails; we were undressing each other at his flat later that night.

"Not so hot that I'm not still being compared to an otter," he replied as he pulled my dress down my shoulders.

"But otters are so damn cute, Cumbers – especially the Julian Assange otter; it was my favourite." I stepped out of my dress then unbuckled his belt.

"Would you prefer me blonde, love?" His nimble fingers undid the clasp of my bra.

"I prefer you au naturale," I told him, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down. "In all interpretations of the term." And in just under a minute, we both met that description.

"As for you, miss 'if Han Solo says it's Friday, then it's Friday.'"

"Nobody messes with Han Solo," I wrapped my arms behind his head and drew it down to capture his lips.

"Mmm, I love you," he whispered, arms around my waist as he guided me to the bed.

"I know."


	44. Noodles and Dumplings

"I must have been time travelling; I'm absolutely craving chocolate milk." We were on the soft grey leather couch at Ben's flat, my legs over his lap and his arm around my back, both looking forward to a relaxing weekend together before being separated for a month while I went off on a short UK tour with Eleanor. Ben had three more weeks left of principal photography for The Imitation Game.

He smirked at me. "Is that a Doctor Who thing?"

"That's from Men in Black – honestly, Cobblewort, you call yourself a geek!" I swiped his shoulder playfully. "But seriously though, have you got any chocolate milk?"

"No love, I'm sorry. I gave up drinking it about...hmm, let's see...twenty years ago."

My eyes narrowed playfully and I pursed my lips at him as I swung my legs off his lap and got up. "Right, then it goes without saying you won't be wanting any." The man had the cheek to laugh at me as I searched for my purse then slipped my feet into shoes. "I'm popping down to the shop."

"You're seriously going out just for chocolate milk?"

I shrugged. "The heart wants what the heart wants, Criddlebutch, and my heart has a desperate yearning for the milk of a chocolate cow. You coming?"

He nearly choked on his laugh as he, too, rose off the couch. "You are such a kook!"

We teased each other as we made the journey to the corner store, bought my milk and headed back again, thankful that here in his local neighbourhood he could walk about unmolested, as it were, by reporters, photographers or fans; they were used to him here and respected his privacy. It was one of the rare places we could be together in public, for which I was extremely grateful – at times the whole subterfuge thing and hiding away from prying eyes became incredibly tedious. We always met at someone's home – his, mine, friends or family's. We'd never been to a movie or the theatre together, never gone dancing or even drinking in a pub, and of course he had to hide or disguise himself each time he came to see me perform. Although I was the one who had insisted on keeping our relationship quiet, I knew Ben was just as keen not to undergo the media frenzy he'd encountered in the past – but there were times, I had to admit, when I got sick of it all and wished he was a 'normal' boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" Ben's question as we climbed the stairs back to his flat made me realise the deep sigh I heard had come from me. After I told him, his first response was to stop and take me in his arms. "I'm sorry, love. We can go public if you want; it'll be hell to begin with, but we can at least go out and do all the things we haven't been able to do."

I shook my head; I wasn't ready. Plus there was no way I wanted people to think I was dating him just to get my name known and sell albums. "No Ben, I don't...I'm sorry, I sound ungrateful and I'm not, truly."

"I know that sweetheart." He kissed my forehead, sweeping hair back from my face and looking into my eyes. "I'll do whatever makes you happy, and do it gladly. Just say the word."

"I am happy, very happy, ninety-nine percent of the time. I'm just having my little one percent whinge today – don't listen to me." It occurred to me then that he always listened to me; he listened about keeping us secret, about trusting me and about always being honest with each other. I hoped I did the same for him. "Ben, you know you're allowed to have your little one percent whinge too, don't you? Or five or ten, or whatever percentage it is..."

He opened his door and pulled me inside. "I am happier than I have ever been and I don't need to have a whinge." Oh hell, am I being selfish having my one percent? Then he continued, "Although, now you mention it..."

"Yes?" I asked, holding my breath.

"You do sometimes..." Please don't let it be a bad habit that is so ingrained I won't be able to reform, "let your glasses get completely filthy and I can't see your beautiful eyes." He reached out and removed my glasses, going over to the kitchen sink to rinse them under the tap while I let my breath out in a whoosh, telling my heart to calm its farm. Once he'd cleaned and dried them, he gently placed them back on my face, saying, "There, that's much better."

"That can't possibly be the only thing about me you don't like," I admonished him playfully.

"Well...I don't like it when you wake up before I do, because then I can't watch you sleeping. I'm not too happy about it when you insist on showering alone...and I really, really hate when you steal the lemon slice from my gin and tonic."

"You don't like eating the lemon slice," I pointed out.

"Completely irrelevant," he huffed.

"And I only eat it after you've finished your drink."

"Again, not pertinent."

"Plus, every time we shower together, one or both of us ends up being late for work."

"Quit pissing in my cornflakes, woman! You asked me for examples of your imperfections and I'm giving them to you."

I couldn't help it; I giggled. At his silly comments and at the sweet goofball look on his face, both of which made my heart melt. "Silly old bear," I murmured, running my fingers along his jawline. "I promise to try and sleep longer so you can perve at me all you like," I added, smiling into his eyes.

"See that you do," he smiled back.

"Ben?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm still craving chocolate milk."

He laughed and patted my bum as I took the carton from his hands and went to fetch a glass.

\---

"Good morning beautiful."

I stretched my arms above my head and turned to Ben, lying on his side next to me. "Hello. You beat me awake, have you had a good time perving?" I smiled, moving to my side as well and reaching to run my hand over his face then resting it on his bare chest.

"I have indeed and I'm happy to report that you drool delightfully." His grin was far too cheeky for this hour of the morning; I didn't yet have the energy for retaliation so merely laughed, telling him he'd keep. I could feel the resonance of his answering chuckle underneath my hand. "Do you know what today is?" he asked mysteriously, waggling his expressive eyebrows.

"Saturday?" I asked from my new position snuggled closely into him, lips close enough to his neck to feel his pulse.

"It is indeed, as you so perceptively point out, but there is something else special about today."

I smiled to myself, pretty sure I knew what he meant and feeling all squimbly inside that he remembered, but also devilish enough to draw out the fun. "Two days before Halloween?"

"No."

"A week till Guy Fawkes?"

"Try again."

"Fifty-six days until Christmas?"

He snorted.

"Is it anything to do with Casablanca?" He was silent and I wondered if it was because he understood my reference or because he didn't. I waited for another few heartbeats then said softly, "Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world..." Moving my head back, I smiled into his gorgeous face, "You walked into mine."

"Six months ago today."

"Wearing your silly-arse disguise."

He tried to look affronted but failed charmingly. "You were mesmerising," he kissed my lips, "and captivating," another kiss, "and utterly bewitching..." Still a God of Kissing, my man.

"You told me I'd need protection," I reminded him, chuckling softly at the memory. "Sounded a bit like a crazy stalker or psycho killer, I've got to say." An insanely hot crazy stalker, of course.

"You said Bob had a black belt in jiu-jitsu – I asked him about it once; he thought jiu-jitsu was a noodle dish with pork and dumplings."

We held each other while we giggled, shoulders shaking together with mirth. I'd almost sobered again when I saw an image in my mind of Bob ordering it at the Shanghai Noodle House down the road from the pub, and my giggles erupted again. When I managed to calm down enough to share my thought with Ben, we both laughed until our sides hurt and I had moisture in the corners of my eyes.

"I'm never going to look at noodles and dumplings the same way again," I mutter, wiping the wetness away, and we have another short giggle before calming again.

"Me either," he agrees. "But if you can manage to be serious for just a moment, my kooky queen, what shall we do today to celebrate our half anniversary?"

"Give each other half a sheet of paper?"

Ben thinks for five seconds, gets it, sighs and then shakes his head at me. "I said be serious, woman!" Perhaps he thought the toe-curling kiss he then gave me would induce me to think more seriously but really, it just pretty much wiped all thought completely apart from one.

"We could stay right here all day," I suggest softly, still catching my breath from the kiss and hoping he'll do it again. "After all, I'll be gone for a month, so we could, you know, store up some...loving...in advance...to make up for while I'm away."

I can tell from the small tremors running through him and sudden increase in heat his body is producing that he's not entirely averse to the idea. "Then there won't be as much to catch up on when you get back again," he points out.

Fair enough. But I am nothing if not resourceful. I press my lips to his neck while one hand sweeps over the taut muscles of his abdomen and slides lower, discovering further proof he was in favour of my suggestion. "Well," I murmur, "who says we can't do both?"

That definitely got his approval; his next kiss made the first one look like a delicate peck on the cheek at a Sunday school picnic. I was completely incapable of coherent thought after that, so it was lucky he didn't ask me any brain teasers at all but concentrated more on making me gasp, moan and sigh. All day.


	45. An Unexpected Arrival

"Oh God, something terrible is going to happen."

Ben looked a little alarmed as he glanced over at me. "Why, love?"

"Too many good things are happening," I crossed myself and worried about Malocchio, the Evil Eye.

His face creased into an almost-smirk as he said, "I didn't realise you're superstitious."

"Please," I dragged out the word, "I'm Italian; we have tons of superstitions."

Seriously, though, there were a lot of good things happening for me. The album and three singles so far released were doing really well, both here in the UK and, strangely enough, in Canada and Australia, where Hold Back the River had reached number one and my third single, Not on My Watch, was sitting at number three, the album itself bobbing in and out of the top ten in eight countries and in the top fifty in a dozen more. Every time someone talked numbers or charts to me I crossed my fingers and touched iron, which is the Italian equivalent of knocking on wood.

We'd made two more music videos, both of them getting strong viewing numbers with CD sales increasing as a consequence.

The tour with Eleanor had been an outstanding success; each night I'd sung mostly songs from the album with two or three new ones or covers mixed in as well and Eleanor and I always did a song together, sometimes two if the demand for an encore was enthusiastic enough.

My name appeared on a Buzzfeed list of 34 British Singer-Songwriters to Discover and I'd been invited to appear at a number of musical festivals in 2014; small billing, but every appearance helped.

Ben had come to our gig in Manchester and I'd closed my set with a cover of The Hollies hit The Air That I Breathe and dedicated it to him, simply saying 'for my man' without mentioning a name. Although he'd been snapped in the audience and the photos had been all over Twitter and, subsequently, the internet, it was assumed he was there to watch the headline act and no hint of our relationship leaked out. I knew it was only a matter of time before that particular bubble would burst.

"You deserve all the good things that are happening to you; stop worrying and enjoy them."

"Stop worrying? Honestly, Cutiepatch, sometimes I think you don't know me at all."

He snickered, so I threw a cushion at him.

\---

"Hey Rick, what's up?" My phone rang just as I was approaching Ben's flat the next day; I answered it as I knocked on the door.

"Are you sitting down?" was his enigmatic response.

"No, but I can be in a sec," I told him, greeting Ben with a kiss when he opened up. He was wearing an apron and had what smelled like garlic in one hand, so he was obviously in the process of making us dinner.

"I think you should."

I sat on the armchair nearest the kitchen so I could watch Ben cook; apart from being able to admire the way he moved with lissom grace, it also afforded me a fantastic view of the Cumberbum.

"All right, I'm sitting down and thoroughly intrigued. What's going on?"

"Ed Sheeran is touring Australia and New Zealand in March and April next year."

"O-kay," I drew out the second syllable.

"He's taking three support acts with him."

Oh shit. No, it's not possible...

"You are one of them."

In some deep, subliminal way I knew where I was and what I was doing there, but my mind had decided to bombard me with flash images of myself, Ed and two faceless musicians along with guitars, koalas, large spiders and screaming crowds of people. I wasn't compos mentis enough to work out if the spiders and the screaming were related. I heard a weird gurgling kind of sound but it wasn't until Ben's face appeared directly in front of mine looking very concerned that I realised the sound was coming from me.

"What's wrong? What's happened? Is it your grandparents?" He was really worried and I shook my head to reassure him but still couldn't get any words to form sentences in my head, much less verbalise them. "One of the band? Cara, what is it?" I merely handed over the phone. "Hello?" I watched him listen to the news from Rick, his eyes widening and mouth forming into an 'O'. When they finished talking he looked at me. "Fuck."

I simply nodded; couldn't have said it better myself, Cumbers.

He disappeared for a minute and came back with two shot glasses of whiskey; we clinked glasses and I sculled it like my life depended on it. Maybe it does; could this be a catatonic coma? Am I doomed to be in this state of semi awareness for the rest of my days, staring fixedly at an indeterminate point while piecemeal thoughts percolate around inside my head? The whiskey burned its way down my oesophagus and I coughed as my eyes began to water. Well, that answers that.

"Did Rick just say...?" My voice sounded croaky.

"Yes." Ben's wasn't much better; must be damn good whiskey.

"Holy mother of mercy."

"That too."

I held my glass out to him and without a word he poured refills. This time he made a toast; "Congratulations darling."

"Thanks," I muttered, sounding slightly more like myself. "Fuck!"

Ben laughed. "I've never heard you say that before."

"I've never said it before," I admitted. "Seemed like as good a time as any."

We sculled again and I coughed once more, then he took the glass from my hand, pulled me to my feet and kissed me, hard and thorough. I'm talking, 'That kiss was so hot, I got heatstroke' kind of thorough. Now I was a quivering bundle of lustful hormones in his arms and I'm pretty sure he had lost interest in any culinary pursuits, so I untied the strings of the apron and was about to do the same for his shirt buttons when he stopped me, tugging my jumper over my head and throwing it haphazardly behind him. "Ladies first," he whispered in a voice so low and husky my lust hiked up a notch or ten. Of course, it's unladylike to argue, so I submitted willingly – it's only polite, after all – as he methodically removed every article of clothing I wore.

"So, so beautiful." The warm breath in my ear sent shivers pulsing through every nerve ending; eyes closed, I tilted my head to the side to allow him greater access to my neck, trembling when his soft lips fluttered feather-like down its length to my collarbone.

"Benedict, clothes off," I pleaded, wanting to see him.

"Not yet darling, I'm going to enjoy you as I am for a while first." Then he carried me to his bed and spent some time bringing me to the pinnacle of pleasure before he divested himself of his clothes and began the task all over again. I love how committed he is to the task in hand...er, hands.

\---

Two days after the official announcement of Ed's tour, I was heading to my grandparents' house after Tony had rung and basically ordered me to a family dinner. I have to admit to being somewhat peeved; firstly, at my big brother thinking he could still order me around, and secondly because Ben had been busy the past few nights and tonight had been my first chance to see him. Naturally, I had invited him along to the family dinner – I just hadn't mentioned it to them yet.

Arriving at the shop, I stopped in to chat to Marco and his assistant for a few minutes. "So what's the story with Tony ordering us to come for dinner?" I asked him when we had a moment alone. He merely shrugged and avoided my eyes, going off to put some stock away. Great, a man secret. Ben's arrival just then prevented me from placing Marco under interrogation – luckily for him – so we headed upstairs with my brother saying he'd be five minutes more.

"Are you sure they won't mind me showing up unexpectedly?" Ben asked, removing his arm from around my waist as he remembered the rules for PDA in front of my strict Catholic family. He held my hand instead.

"It'll be fine; there's always tons of food." I knew he meant that perhaps the evening was private but my blood was still up over Tony's bossiness and I was staging my own little rebellion against that.

Knocking briefly on the door of their flat, I turned the knob and strode in, Ben right behind me. The usual flurry of greetings ensued, everyone jabbering in Italian, but it wasn't until I moved around to hug Maria that I noticed another man waiting quietly in the background.

My blood froze in my veins and I halted mid-sentence, barely able to believe my eyes. The room suddenly went quiet and it seemed as if everybody was watching us.

"Ѐ bello vederti, mia figlia," he said. (It's good to see you, my daughter)

Behind me I heard Ben gasp, which didn't surprise me as he had probably been under the impression my father was dead – which, as far as I was concerned, he was.

Without saying a word I turned, grabbed Ben's arm and tugged it, hard, as I made my way back to the door I had just entered, thundering down the stairs with him in tow.

"Cara!" Marco called as we passed him, reaching out a hand to stop me. I thrust it forcefully aside, sparing him a scorching look as I kept going, thankful that Ben was following me without question; I felt betrayed by my entire family and could not have borne it if he had done the same.


	46. Battles and Scars

What the hell is he doing here? How dare he show up out of the blue like that? If he thinks he can just waltz in and everything will be forgiven and forgotten, he's got another thought coming...

"Sweetheart?"

And my family; huh, some supportive family they turn out to be, letting him in then ambushing me like that. That was Tony's idea, I bet. Has he been keeping in touch with him all these years? I thought we were united on this, I thought they felt the same way I do...

"Darling?"

The gall of him! And them; they all knew, I could tell from the looks on their faces - they hadn't been surprised to see him. Even Marco, when he avoided me down in the shop...

"Cara." Startled from my ceaseless, angry pacing to and fro in Ben's lounge room by firm hands taking hold of my elbows, I gasped and looked up at his face. It was confused and concerned – mostly concerned. "Talk to me?" he asked softly, eyes searching mine.

The tight ball of anger, hurt and betrayal lodged in my chest made that near impossible but I tried; God, I tried. "He...they...didn't...never..." Each stuttered word became more and more difficult to thrust out as the ball wound ever tighter inside me.

Thankfully Ben sensed that explanations were beyond my capability at this point; he gathered me closely to him and rubbed my back, murmuring soothingly into my ear while I stopped spluttering and became silent again. "Shhh, love, it's okay. You don't have to talk right now. I'm here." He pressed kisses to the top of my head while the sound of his heart beneath my ear beat a steady rhythm of calm that was at complete odds with my own hectic pounding and swirling thoughts. When I nuzzled my face into his neck he led me unresisting down the hallway, removed our shoes and jumpers and gathered me once more into his arms beneath a comforting cocoon of blankets. I sighed as I nestled into him, his unhesitating support a soothing balm to my troubled spirit, and we stayed that way as unwelcome memories from my childhood flickered behind my eyelids like a silent movie. I didn't want to go there; I hated that things I had worked so hard to forget and shelve away had been resurrected so easily. I was angry at my father for being here, angry at my family for tricking me into seeing him, knowing how I felt, and angry that he still had the power to hurt me by something as simple as showing his face. Most of all I was angry for feeling anything at all, when I had been telling myself for years that I didn't.

I lost all sense of time; I couldn't tell you how long we lay there – certainly long enough for shadows and moonlight to penetrate the room – but when I did finally move and speak, it was for the most mundane of reasons. "I need to wee," I said, the first cohesive sentence I had made in some time. Ben's reaction was a complete surprise.

"I'll race you."

"What?"

The look on his face was a mix of amusement and angst. "I've been holding on for almost an hour, not wanting to disturb you. So if you want to go, you're going to have to beat me." He lost no time in unwrapping his long limbs from around me and leaping out of the bed while I looked on in amazement.

"Oh my God, Ben, and you call me a kook."

"With any luck you're rubbing off on me," he smiled, his lips touching mine in the fastest of kisses as he raced to the ensuite. "I'm sorry darling, you know I'd normally let you go first, but if I did...I couldn't be responsible for the consequences."

Once we'd both attended to our needs we discovered we were also both hungry, so I followed him out to the kitchen and sat nursing a glass of red wine while he moved with lissom grace from bench to stove top to pantry and back again. He neither pressed me to talk nor subjected me to overworn platitudes and homilies; he simply let me sit quietly and watch him, occasionally coming to feed me a slice of whatever vegetable he was cutting then stealing a kiss before returning to his task.

"Would you like some music?" he asked after realising he'd been humming under his breath as he prepared chicken for baking.

I tilted my head to consider his idea but had what I thought was a better one of my own. "Would you sing for me?"

"Me?" I nodded solemnly. "On one condition," he stipulated as he placed the dish in the oven and set the timer. Wiping his hands clean, he came to stand in front of me and held out a hand in invitation. "Dance with me."

I put down my glass and stood, placing my left hand on his shoulder and my right in his, and as we began to move in a slow waltz, his mellifluous baritone serenaded me with an Elvis classic.

 

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you

Shall I stay

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you

 

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand,

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you

 

We continued to sway to the music in our heads until the shrill summons of the oven timer sounded and I returned to my wine while he served up. "Ben," I said as we sat down to enjoy our meal, "I'm going to record a duet with you one of these days; you have a lovely voice."

He tossed me a sceptical smirk and replied, "You can try, my darling, but I don't like your chances."

"Challenge accepted," I told him.

Later we cuddled on the couch, a soft blanket covering our knees as we sipped tea, and I finally felt ready to tell him about my father.

"When I was a child," I began, "everything was perfectly normal; my dad worked at the shop with nonno, my mum stayed home and raised us. Papa was a jolly, larger than life kind of guy who laughed easily and made friends with everyone, while mamma was quiet but they seemed happy, I guess – I don't remember ever hearing them arguing. Then when I was ten...I came home from school one day to an empty flat. Tony had gone to football practice and Marco was at a friend's place, so I'd gone home by myself; nothing unusual in that. But my mother wasn't waiting for me at home and that hadn't happened before; she was always there for us when we got home from school. I did my homework and waited, then I found something to eat and waited some more. When she still wasn't there by the time my brothers got home I was getting very worried that something terrible had happened to her, so Tony rang nonna, but she...she hadn't seen her either."

Ben gave me a squeeze of reassurance as I drew a breath.

"Nonna sent papa...my father, home; he found a note from her in their bedroom. She said...she said...she had been unhappy for years, that she had fallen in love with someone else and was leaving with him." This was the part Ben had known the bare facts of already; what came next was something I rarely spoke about to anyone.

"My father didn't...cope very well with her leaving; he stopped going to the shop and would sit around at home all day waiting for her to come back. He didn't laugh any more, or talk to his friends - the only thing he talked about was how much he loved her and how he promised to make her happy if she would only give him another chance. He...he wrapped himself in his grief and pretty much forgot that my brothers and I existed; he would forget to buy food, not show up to parent-teacher nights or football games or my music recitals. He started drinking...some nights he didn't even come home and we would fend for ourselves. By the time she'd been gone just over six months he was drunk or hungover most of the time, then one afternoon nonna came over and told the three of us to pack our most precious belongings in our bags. That's...that's when we went to live with her and nonno."

"What happened to your father?"

I shrugged. "They tried to get him into rehab I think, but I'm not sure he ever went."

"Oh my darling girl," Ben whispered, his voice croaky. "I'm so sorry."

"How could he do that, Ben? How could he take away the only parent we had left? I needed him..." Suddenly the floodgates opened and I was sobbing in his arms; loud, deep sobs that shook my entire body and drenched us both in tears. Ben held me tightly, soothing and comforting me as best he could while allowing me to pour out my heartache.

Eventually, when my tears had turned to quiet hiccups, he gently wiped my face and mopped my tears. "He called my grandparents once," I told him. "I overheard them arguing with him late one night, telling him he had responsibilities and should come home, but he never did. I haven't heard from him or spoken to him since the day he left."

"Twenty years ago?" He sounded incredulous. I nodded. "Why do you think he's here now?"

"I don't know and I don't care," I told him and I meant every word.

\---

"You can't avoid them for ever."

"I can try."

"Cara..."

"I know," I huffed, frustrated. Ever since running from my grandparents' flat yesterday I'd been avoiding every member of my family; when I'd turned my phone back on this morning I had twelve missed calls and twenty-three texts messages – mostly from Tony, at whom I was particularly annoyed. That's one of the reasons I'd been 'hiding out' at Ben's flat; they didn't know his address and couldn't arrive unannounced, whereas I was pretty sure they'd be pounding on my door the minute I showed up. Now we were on our way to my flat, Ben having offered to come with me for moral support, and I was crossing my fingers that no-one would be there. "Let's park around the corner," I suggested, "and walk to my place, that way if we see one of them at the door we can turn around again."

"Darling..."

"Oh all right, we won't turn around, but we could at least see who it is and I can prepare myself, without being confronted the second I get out of the car."

He conceded and we found a parking spot in the next street. I looked around and, finding the place deserted, slid my arm around Ben's waist. Damn what the family thought about it, I needed to touch him and at this stage I was ready to battle them on any field. He put his arm around me too and gave me an encouraging kiss as we turned the corner to my flat.

Which is when all hell broke loose.


	47. Out of the Pan and Into the Fire

Oh God, this is my worst nightmare.

Or no; for not even in my most vivid imaginings could I ever have conjured up this scenario.

Perhaps I've died and gone to Hell – but that's not possible either, as Ben's here and he would be the friend of St Michael and of Gabriel, never of Lucifer - Khan notwithstanding.

So, if it's not a dream and I haven't died, then...it must actually be happening. Really, Lord? In the grand scheme of things it wasn't deemed sufficient to plague me with one emotional turmoil at a time? They absolutely must come riding in together like the four horsemen of the apocalypse? Two of them anyway – you know what I mean, Lord. A small sigh escaped me and I squeezed Ben's waist, looking to him only to find him gazing back at me. "Stay close," he murmured near my ear. Yeah, Cumbers, like I was going anywhere.

Ten paces ahead but closing rapidly, a large posse of camera lenses focussed on us, human bodies hiding behind them, voices barrelling over each other to create a cacophony of questions that hammered into my skull, flashes of brilliant light flickering in my vision.

And behind them, hanging back silently but no less demanding of my attention, stood my grandparents. So, they'd brought out the big guns then.

I nodded to Ben and held tight to his hand as we attempted to push our way through the throng that swarmed around us while they tossed questions our way like ill-mannered schoolchildren. Thankful I wasn't claustrophobic, it nonetheless felt as if I were standing in a forest surrounded by giant evergreens with the wind whistling loudly through the treetops. They were incessant, repetitive and demanding and it rapidly became almost overwhelming – until one particular question caught my attention and suddenly I felt my backbone straighten.

Well hello, pissy-streak Cara; welcome back.

Ben was surprised when I came to a halt; he opened his mouth as if to urge me forward but the expression on my face must have alerted him to my change in mood. "Cara..." he murmured, bending close so he could hear me over the ruckus.

"I won't let them make me run and hide, dammit."

We exchanged a searching look; I hoped he would feel as I did but had no intention of forcing the issue on him if he wasn't happy about it. After five seconds he gave me a nod and a small smile, squeezed my fingers then turned to the paps and held up his other hand to signal for silence. It took a while for them to let go of their barrage of questions and fall quiet but when eventually they did Ben indicated we would answer a few only.

How long had we been dating? For some months, he told them. We'd been seen coming out of a jewellers together yesterday – was there an engagement in the offing? Well, that answered my question on how we'd been 'outed' as I recalled I'd been too upset leaving my grandparents' place to think of our usual privacy arrangements; obviously some enterprising fan had snapped Ben and alerted the media. Ah well, spilt milk. No, we are not engaged, he assured them; I added a smile and shake of my head and we studiously ignored any other questions along those lines. Then the snarky voice that had caused me to stop in my tracks repeated its question: was this all a publicity stunt to sell my album? I felt Ben bristling beside me as my own temper rose like magma to the surface of a volcano, and was as difficult to keep under control. I did manage to keep a lid on it though, I'm pretty proud of myself for that.

"We had already been seeing each other for some months before Cara was offered the opportunity of making the album," Ben replied firmly with a dark look towards the pap who'd asked. "And if you listen to the radio at all and have heard her sing, you would know that she's incredibly talented and has no need whatsoever of my small slice of celebrity to be a success; if anything, I'm probably more of a hindrance." Oh Cumbers, you are such a sweetheart.

"Cara, what's Benedict like as a boyfriend?"

Oh my, so many things I could say. I looked at him with a smile, "He is...sweet, smart, thoughtful, funny and goofy...a wonderful friend, great cook, amazing dancer and incredibly generous lover." Loud gasps and choking noises sounded all around me and Ben himself looked rather stunned. Out of the corner of my eye I could see pens moving furiously over paper and recording devices thrust closer. "But" I continued with a grin, "he won't let me anywhere near his plants."

"Would you care to elaborate..." one brave soul ventured.

"I'd kill them," I said, knowing full well that wasn't the question she'd wanted me to expand on. And...that's all folks, I am done. I tugged Ben's hand and turned towards my flat; he nodded a dismissal to the paps as we shouldered our way through the throng, cameras still clicking and flashing. My grandparents, meanwhile, had been standing back watching and waiting. Catching nonno's eye, I jerked my head towards my flat to indicate they should come inside with us; with one lion slain – or at the very least, declawed – I had enough fire in my belly still to take on another.

Once the four of us got safely inside I closed the door with a thankful sigh then took a deep breath ready for the next onslaught. "Ben," I moved swiftly in front of him, taking his hands in mine and raising them to my lips. "I'm sorry, darling – was that too much?"

He shook his head as the shocked look disappeared, a reluctant grin taking its place. "I would have expected nothing less from you, if I'd thought about it – though I'm glad I didn't, my heart nearly stopped as it was." I looked deep into his eyes, needing to make sure he wasn't disappointed in me or excruciatingly embarrassed; I opened my mouth to say something but he beat me to it. "It's fine, love. And um...thanks, I guess." The grin was back and I was reassured. My answering grin was swiftly wiped off my face though, when I turned to my grandparents.

"Would you like to sit?" I asked them, waving my arm at the lounge. It hadn't escaped my notice that neither of them had yet said a word.

"Shall I make coffee?" Ben asked and I sent him a thankful glance and nod yes.

"Possiamo parlare in privato?" finally nonno spoke. (Can we speak privately?)

I could tell from his sudden stillness that Ben understood enough of that sentence to hesitate. "Ben stays," my tone brooked no argument. "He knows the whole story and I'd be telling him everything anyway, so he might as well hear it now straight from the horse's mouth." My grandparents exchanged a loaded look. "And speak English please," I insisted.

We sat uncomfortably quiet until the coffee arrived; Ben perched on the arm of my chair as my grandparents had taken the couch. I was grateful for his closeness.

"So," I took the bull by the horns, "tell me why you tricked me into meeting with that man yesterday."

My grandfather stirred in his seat. "He is your father, cara mia, do not speak disrespectfully of him."

"You were more of a father to me than he ever was," I said softly, looking him in the eye, "And I will give him my respect if and when he earns it and not before." His mouth tightened but he didn't dispute my words. "Do you condone what he did?"

"He is my son, piccolo; no matter what he has done, whether I approve of his actions or not, he will always be my son." Until I was a parent myself I couldn't possibly argue that point, so I merely nodded. "Tuo padre..." I cleared my throat and he switched to English. "Your father...has made many mistakes in his life, as we all do, cara mia, and now he wishes to...riparazione...fix...the mistake he made with Antonio, Marco and yourself."

The cup I was holding began to shake, threatening to spill, and I felt a wave of heat spread up my neck to my face. "Fix? He wants to fix offering me no comfort at all when I was motherless and heartbroken? When I cried myself to sleep for months, thinking she had left because I was a horrible child? He thinks he can fix forgetting to feed us or look after us or show us any love because all he could think about was his own misery? He's going to fix forgetting we existed and abandoning us just as she did?" Ben took the cup from my trembling hand and put it down safely then held me tightly, squeezing a little. My voice had gotten quite loud but frankly my dear, I didn't give a Goddamn.

"Cara, tesoro," nonna spoke for the first time. "He simply wants to be a part of your life again."

Part of my life? I thought back over all the milestones a girl goes through – first menstrual cycle, first kiss, first date, first dance, first boyfriend – neither of my parents had cared enough about me to be present for any of those.

"No."

"Che?"

"No," I repeated, firmer than the first time. "He had his chance to be part of my life twenty years ago. I am not interested."

"Cara," nonna reprimanded me gently, "I have never known you to harden your heart against another person, especially la famiglia."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you nonna, I truly am." I replied, still trembling. "But he is not welcome in my life and I wish to never see him again."

"The Bible tells us to 'honour thy father and thy mother', cara mia," intones my grandfather, looking at me sadly.

"Si nonno. It also says, 'Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them.'"

We sat at an impasse. I held myself stiffly in my seat, pressing so hard on Ben's hand at times I'm sure it hurt, but he didn't complain and didn't let go, for which I was eternally grateful. The effort of keeping my emotions at bay was having a physical impact – my jaw clenched, my head hurt and I could feel the tension behind my eyes. The tight ball from the previous night was beginning to wind itself up again in my chest and I tried to breathe deep and slow to prevent it growing too big too soon. I watched my grandparents exchange a significant look and wondered what tactic they'd try next.

"He is ill, cara mia." That definitely wasn't what I'd been expecting. "His liver...he is very ill."

They looked desolate and my heart lurched to see them like that. We may be at odds over this issue but they are still the couple that had shown me nothing but affection, support and encouragement and I loved them dearly. Rising from my chair I went over and gave them each a hug and kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry," I murmured quietly.

"Will you see him, piccolo, and let him try to make amends?" nonna beseeched me.

Will I? Does his illness make any difference? I searched my heart for an answer.


	48. The Needs of the Many

"I'm sorry for your pain and I don't wish ill on anyone, but no...it doesn't make any difference to how I feel."

They looked disappointed and I felt the ball tighten a little more, the pain in my head and eyes intensifying. I backed away a little and they both got to their feet. "Very well," nonno said heavily while I looked to nonna, sending her a pleading glance when I thought I saw understanding in her eyes. She reached out her hand to mine and squeezed it briefly, giving me the tiniest of nods; I closed my eyes for a second, allowing myself an internal sigh. We said a strained goodbye then Ben saw them out in case the paps were still on guard, coming back to confirm they were.

He took one look at my face and took me in his arms, my head resting on his chest while he wrapped his comfort around me. "Are you okay?"

"I don't honestly know," I said into his shirt.

We stood there for five minutes, him rubbing my back while I concentrated on not falling apart.

"What time is your rehearsal?" he eventually asked. Every year the guys and I did a Christmas concert at a local children's hospital; it was coming up in a couple of days.

"Eleven."

He looked at his watch. "We'd better head off soon then, it will take us a bit longer to get to the car with the horde of vultures following along." I grunted but didn't move, reluctant to leave my safe haven. He indulged me for a few minutes more then pulled away to grab his leather jacket and my guitar; I quickly changed into fresh clothes and picked up my handbag, ostensibly ready to face the crowd outside. God, I was sick of them already.

Once again we were hit with a barrage of questions, which we ignored completely, and the rapidly growing annoying sound of cameras clicking. What was so fascinating about two people walking along a suburban street escaped my comprehension, but Hell, even vultures need to eat I suppose. My stress headache was pounding and I was beyond relieved when Ben closed the passenger door behind me and slid behind the wheel.

The next few days I was forced to become used to a group of paps being practically camped outside my apartment building and trailing along behind as I made my way anywhere. I took to catching taxis more just to minimise the intrusion. News of Ben's and my relationship, together with photos of course, were in all the rags and all over social media, according to Rick and Karon, who kept us both updated. My comments about Ben's boyfriend qualities seemed to make headlines everywhere, giving me my first lesson in being careful what you say and whom you say it to.

I had yet to make contact with any member of my family. I knew the longer I put it off, the harder it would become, but couldn't bear the thought of the stress and strain that would inevitably accompany it. In the end, the problem came to me, in the form of my brother Tony showing up at my flat the night after the children's Christmas concert.

"How do you put up with that?" he asked when I opened the door to him, referring to the paps outside. "How does Ben cope with it all the time?"

I just shrugged, not really knowing how to answer. Ben had told me you get used to it but frankly I was hoping I would never have to. Yeah, still in denial.

Once we'd settled awkwardly in chairs, Tony got right to the point; I think he knew I was still pissed at him for blindsiding me. Apparently our father had shown up out of the blue the day before I'd been summoned to nonna's, told them he was dying and wanted to make peace with us all while he had the chance.

"He's dying?" I asked.

"Cirrhosis of the liver," Tony said, "He was on a list for a liver transplant but fell off the wagon, which meant he was taken off the list. He can get back on if he stays sober for six months, but it's doubtful he has that long."

That was difficult news to process. To me, he'd been dead for a long time; to hear that he was dying now was rather surreal.

"Cara, I know we sprung him on you and I'm sorry, it was a misguided attempt to...well, never mind. I know how you feel about him and I don't blame you for how you reacted, but I'm hoping you will at least think about seeing him and talking to him."

"I thought you felt the same way?"

He shrugged. "I guess I didn't hate him as much as you do."

"I don't hate him," I said quietly. "I just...oh God, Tony, I have no idea how I feel any more."

For once he didn't point out my blasphemy. "I know sis." He came and gave me a hug. "Will you at least think about it? Please?" I nodded; I doubted I'd be able to think about much else now, dammit.

The next night Ben and I were going to see Tom in Coriolanus; it was to be our first public date so I knew there'd be plenty of cameras about and took extra care with my appearance, especially makeup – doing my best to hide the dark circles under my eyes from a sleepless night following Tony's visit. I hadn't yet had the opportunity to bring Ben up-to-date on my father's illness; it wasn't something I'd wanted to share by phone. He had been nothing but caring and supportive since this all started - just another wonderful part of his character to love him for.

Almost blinded by flashing cameras as usual when he picked me up, luckily he and Tom had arranged a back door arrival at the Donmar so we could avoid a scene among the theatregoers out front, for which I was very grateful. We did attract some attention making our way to our seats but whispers and the odd raised phone were easily ignored. As we settled in Ben leaned over to murmur in my ear, "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"You did," I smiled at him, "but feel free to say it – or any variants - as many times as you like; if I tire of hearing it, I'll let you know." As he chuckled I added, "Did I tell you how delectable you look?"

His eyebrow arched as he gave a faint twitch of his lips. "I don't believe you did, Miss de Luca."

"How terribly remiss of me, Hottiebatch. Let me assure you now that there will definitely be some delectabling going on later this evening."

"I don't believe delectabling is a word, darling."

"It is now. There'll be a picture of you next to the definition in the dictionary."

He didn't attempt in any way to muffle his snort/laugh at my remark, so a touch more attention turned our way for a while there. Oh well; the smile on his face and glint in his gorgeous eyes were totally worth it. I may have had a smile on my face too.

The production was riveting and although I knew the story well, I'd never seen it performed with such visceral power. Tom exuded all the arrogance and charisma of the great leader while also portraying the character's reckless impetuosity and I thought the ensemble cast were great, especially the actress who played his mother. We went backstage afterwards and Ben introduced me to some of the cast while we waited for Tom to get cleaned up and changed; I particularly enjoyed meeting Mark Gatiss and found it difficult not to bombard him with questions about Sherlock. Once Tom was ready the three of us headed out; Tom out the stage door to give some time to his fans, Ben and I through the front entrance and a small smattering of eager – and rather persistent - paps to wait for our friend at a nearby club. We had a couple of drinks then both men insisted we get up on the dance floor; it didn't take me long to realize what I had let myself in for. Ben, I discovered, was an extremely energetic dancer when he had a couple of gins in him – but Tom was an absolute blitzkrieg. I'd had enough alcohol to attempt for a few minutes to keep up with him, but was soon happy to admit defeat and just watch, mesmerized, as he jumped, shimmied and cavorted around the floor like a demon possessed.

"Tom loves to dance," Ben's completely unnecessary observation made me give a rueful laugh.

"Understatement of the century, Cumbers," I replied. "Between the two of you, I feel like a duck waddling in a room full of swans." Of course it didn't help that they both had such long legs and strong thighs – and Tom's hips! Oh my God, no wonder his fan-girls all raved about them.

"Nonsense, sweetheart – you are the most beautiful swan here and I love your dancing." He pulled me closer and put his arm around me, switching seamlessly to a three step. I rewarded his romanticism with a kiss and happily swayed with him, ignoring the looks of those around us still gamboling about. After a dozen more dances I suddenly found myself the filling in a tall heartthrob sandwich as Tom stood behind me and put his arms around my shoulders, moving in time with us.

"Tom, what are you doing?" I laughed.

"You both looked so sweet and happy, I wanted to be part of that too."

I shared a quick smile with Ben. "How many drinks did you slip in without me seeing?" I asked Tom.

"I may have had another one or two while you lovebirds were otherwise occupied."

I groaned, suddenly feeling like a mother hen. "Don't you have a show to do tomorrow?"

"Yes."

I stopped, releasing my grip around Ben's waist and taking his hand instead then reaching for Tom's hand too. "Come on then, you two, time for coffee." And I dragged them both out of the club and into a taxi, plying them with strong coffee once we got to Ben's flat and making sure Tom was more sober before sending him home in the small hours.

\---

I woke abruptly, startled, my heart beating rapidly and a sweat on my forehead.

"Darling, are you all right?"

I nodded. "Nightmare."

He pulled me close to his side, arms rubbing my back as my breathing slowed. "About your father?"

"How did you...?"

"You were muttering in your sleep," he revealed. I sighed, closing my eyes, then told him all about Tony's visit and what he had to say about my father's condition. "I'm sorry to hear that, mi amore. How do you feel about it?"

"I haven't worked that out yet," I confessed. After a minute of silence I added, "Ben, will you please tell me your thoughts about the situation?"

"You have all of your family putting pressure on you to decide; I don't want to add to that stress."

"I know, love, and I appreciate it, especially as I know how close you are with your dad...but, I'd really like to hear your opinion."

He tucked me closer, wrapping his arms more firmly around me and pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I think...you were hurt very deeply and your reluctance now to allow your father back into your life could stem from either of two things; you haven't yet let go of all your hurt or you are afraid to let him in because you fear he will only hurt you again. Possibly a combination of both."

Well, shit. When did he manage to get a degree in psychology? "Very wise, Master Yoda is," I muttered at last, still rather stunned. Damn, a Star Wars reference again! What the hell would Mr Spock say about this one?


	49. The Sins of the Father

If ever there was a time for a Pros and Cons list, this was it; the thoughts jumbling around in my head desperately need sorting. I'm starting with cons. I don't know why, I just am. Go with me on this one.

Cons:

1\. As Ben so astutely observed, I haven't yet let go of all the hurt and anger towards my father that I've been carrying around for twenty years. I'm not sure if it's because I don't want to let it go or simply don't know how.

2\. I am definitely wary of letting him back into my life because I think he will only hurt me again. (Top marks to Ben; he totally called it.) Can I overcome that – can I drop the walls I've put up over the years? Do I even want to?

3\. The man is dying; he has only a few months left to live. Is it worth all this angst for something so short term? How could the benefits of letting him back into my life possibly outweigh the inevitable?

4\. If I continue to exclude him, will I regret it later? And will it drive a wedge between my grandparents, my brothers and me?

5\. Is it mere coincidence that he has shown up now? Is he really after money or wants one of us to donate some liver bits? Is it terrible that I am suspicious of my own father's motives?

Whoa, that's a pretty formidable list of cons; I wonder what I've got to stack up against them. Here goes.

Pros:

1\. It would mean a lot to nonno and nonna, the two people I love most in the world. Well, okay, equal most. And I guess it would make Tony and Marco happy too.

2\. Umm, okay, I'm struggling here. A tiny, weakly optimistic voice is telling me the joy of having a parent in my life is a firm pro but the cynical side of me tells me I've coped perfectly well without for twenty years and there's no reason why I can't continue to do so. So...yeah, number two is not leaping out at me.

"You've got your Pros and Cons face on."

What? I stared at Ben in amazement as he came in, bringing with him a hint of the bleak winters day outside. He knows me so well, it's kind of...spooky. And amazing. And lovely.

"I...yes." Oh, I am so eloquent this morning.

Putting down the bags of groceries, he blew into his hands and rubbed them together then came over to me. As he had a break until after Christmas, he'd let his hair grow back a little and was sporting a very attractive batch of chin fuzz that could be held directly responsible for the rash on a number of parts of my body. There was still a touch of chill on the fingers he placed on either side of my face but it felt good to my suddenly overheated cheeks. "Close your eyes," he commanded in a deep voice, sending shivers to all my nether regions. I obeyed. "What is your heart telling you?"

"To kiss you silly," my reply was rather breathless. The fact he still had this effect on me I put down to some kind of voodoo magic.

"I meant about your father." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

I couldn't help what happened next, I really couldn't. I'm a geek; it's bred deep in my DNA. "Luke," I made the deep breathy noise, "I am your father." Then I giggled and when an image of me sitting there, giggling with my eyes tightly closed, entered my head, I giggled even harder. I was listening for the sound of Ben's laughter and about to open my eyes when he stole my breath with a kiss – a toe-curling, heart-stopping kiss that melted my insides and had me whimpering when his lips left mine.

"Now be serious, you kook." My ovaries jumped around in response to his husky tone. I was reassured at the evidence that he'd been affected by the kiss too, but seriously? I was supposed to think about my father after that? It seemed wrong on so many levels. "Don't overthink it," he told me, "just say the first thing that comes to mind."

Ha. I'm pretty sure the first thing that popped into my mind was not exactly what he was talking about, so I determinedly pushed aside all thoughts of a weird and improper nature to concentrate on the task at hand. Squeezing my eyes tighter shut, I pictured my family and then my father. What am I going to do? Oh, who am I kidding - I knew what I would do as soon as I acknowledged my first and only Pro. While meeting with him meant nothing to me, it did mean a whole lot to my grandparents and I owed them so much there really had never been any doubt, I had just been stubbornly hiding it from myself. Opening my eyes, I stared into Ben's mesmerising gaze and he must have seen the resolution in mine because he smiled and once again I melted. Oh God, I'm in so deep with this wonderful man. If he ever turns to the Dark Side, I'm a goner. Why the hell can't I stop the Star Wars references?

\---

Standing outside the door to my grandparents' flat the next day, I raised my hand to knock. I'd already raised and lowered it four times and was wondering if this time I'd actually go through with it. A buzzing vibration in my pocket alerted me to an incoming text; it's from Tony. Where are you? I had rung him the day before agreeing to meet with our father under certain strict conditions - now here I was to live up to my side of the bargain. I just had to gather a little more courage...

The door opened and Tony stood before me, his mobile still in his hand. To my startled look he murmured, "I heard your phone buzz." Damn modern technology and my brother's excellent hearing. Taking my spare hand in his, he pulled me inside and I was immediately engulfed in nonna's usual greeting, followed by a fiercely warm hug from nonno. It was already feeling worthwhile coming here just for this; a lurch in my chest reminded me how much I loved these two. I greeted Marco then turned to the last occupant of the room.

"Ciao Cara." His voice was a younger but raspier version of nonno's, which gave me chills.

"Ciao." I nodded. He had the height all males of our family were blessed with. His hair was almost fully grey but his eyebrows retained the darkness of earlier years, his eyes a mirror image of my own in both shape and colour except for the damage wrought by alcohol abuse. It had taken a toll on his complexion as well, mottling his cheeks and reddening his nose, while his body also demonstrated the neglect and ill treatment. I felt a momentary sadness before memories of him coming home late at night drunk washed it away, replacing it with anger.

There would be no grand gestures of forgiveness, I had told Tony in no uncertain terms, nor would I be leaping to include him in my life. I had come to hear what he had to say and for my grandparents' sake, and nothing more.

We sat awkwardly around the living room. The others had coffee cups in front of them but I declined, not sure I was capable of swallowing anything without choking.

"You look so much like your beautiful mother," he said to me, not realising probably that a remark like that won him no points as far as I was concerned. The rest of my family knew it though and Marco rushed to fill the silence when I made no response.

"Cara is a famous singer now, papa. She is going on tour next year." He made me sound much more important than I really was, so I reached over to squeeze his hand in thanks.

"Si, even in Lanuvio we hear the latest music," My father's answer surprised and he looked over at me. "I heard you sing on the radio, Cara, and my cousin Bernado showed me something on the computer with you and a band." He must mean a YouTube video, I figured.

"I'm not headlining, I'm only one of three opening acts, but it's a start and I'm very lucky to be doing it." The suspicious side of my nature wanted to make sure he didn't think I had hit the big time and was rolling in money and fame.

"We are all very proud of her, Niccolo," nonno announced and I sent him a grateful smile.

"Sì, certo, naturalmente." His gaze came back to me. "I see also many, many photographs of you with a man, an actor."

Oh God. "Benedetto," nonno supplied before I could say anything. "We have met him, Niccolo, he is a good man, although not Italian."

"He is Catholic at least?"

"No," I replied. Ben didn't really adhere to any particular religion, though he liked many of the Buddhist philosophies he'd learned about living in Nepal when he was younger. I was hardly a poster child for Catholicism myself, if it came to that.

"And yet you share a bed with him as husband and wife?" I gasped at the sudden attack, stated in a judgemental tone that left no doubt as to his viewpoint. "Thereby sinning against God and His teachings in the Holy Bible – and tell tales of this sin to the whole world. Have you no shame?"

"Niccolo!" "Papa!" my family exclaimed around me.

I got to my feet, trembling with suppressed fury and indignation. "No, you don't...how dare you criticise me! You who..." I drew a shaky breath. "Jesus said, 'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone.'" I pointed my finger at him. "You have sinned against God and against your family for the past twenty years. You have no right to judge me." On unsteady legs I swept past my brothers, collected my bag from where I'd left it by the door and stormed out of the flat for the second time in a week.

\---

When I showed up at Ben's door he took one look at me and drew me inside, placed a hand on my cheek and asked tenderly, "Darling, what happened?"

"I can't..." I shook my head, pleading with my eyes for him to not question me any further.

Cursing softly under his breath, he sat me down on a chair and a minute later placed a tumbler of something on the coffee table in front of me. Whiskey, I guessed from the warm, rich colour. He disappeared down the hallway for a short time then came back and seeing I hadn't touched the glass, lifted it to my lips, asking me to take a small swallow at least. Once I had he drew me to my feet and pulled me with him to the bathroom, swirling with steam as the bath filled. I submitted to his ministrations as he gently undressed me and tied my hair in a knot on top of my head before removing his own clothing and helping me step into the tub, immersing us both in the hot, soothing water. I sighed and leaned back against his chest, closing my eyes and willing my mind to stop replaying the events of the morning over and over.

I was holding on tight to my anger, knowing that once it had disappeared, hurt would arrive to take its place.


	50. Silver Linings

"Nonno really lit into him, sis, you should have seen it; he was magnificent. Told him you're a grown woman and entitled to make your own decisions about how you lead your life. Nonna was just as feisty, said he should have been a better father and been there for us for all those years."

"They're not mad at me? I should have controlled my temper..."

"No! You were absolutely right. He has no right to criticise your behaviour after all, or even to think it was his business what you do. I was so angry with him when he said those things to you – I'm really glad you stood up to him."

"Well, you know what I'm like when I get pissy."

"I sure do," Tony chuckled. He'd rung me a number of times before I finally answered, worried as to what I was going to hear about my family's reaction to my outburst. It turned out I needn't have been concerned.

"Tony, they're not...ashamed of me, are they? I mean, about Ben..."

"Cara, no, come on, I know the Church is against...relations...before marriage, but heck, this is the twenty-first century after all. They don't seem phased or upset about it. They knew about Maria and I before we got married, so..."

"They did?" Huh, my grandparents still had the power to surprise me.

We talked some more and when finally I hung up I felt so much relief I was almost giddy. There was a positive aspect to my angst though – the drama somehow fuelled my creative juices and for the next few days I wrote songs prolifically, the music and lyrics pouring out of me like a waterfall. I called Mick to ask how soon we could get back in the studio.

\---

The following weeks flew by.

My father, after being chastised by my brothers and grandparents, made no further effort to contact me, and a week later returned to Italy. If any of them kept in touch they didn't bother telling me and I didn't ask.

Ben went to Los Angeles for the premiere of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug and was busy with promotional tours and interviews around the world, so for a few weeks we saw each other only over Skype.

Christmas came and went with all the usual pomp and ceremony then as soon as the New Year was ushered in I was back in the studio with Mick, Marcus, Jake and Rick, recording a new album. I wanted to get as much of it done as possible before leaving to go overseas; I was to attend the Oscars with Ben in LA on the second of March then would fly to Sydney, Australia to join Ed's tour which began on the seventh. In the freezing temperatures we were experiencing it was hard to believe I'd soon be sweltering in a hot Australian summer. Ed had toured there before and warned me it could get as hot as forty degrees Celsius quite frequently, something I couldn't possibly imagine or comprehend.

\---

The morning of the ninth of January began as any ordinary Thursday does; I arrived at the studio and grabbed a coffee, chatting with Mick about the song we would be working on that day, one of those I had written soon after the disastrous meeting with my father. It was a melancholy number with rich piano tones and for a change I was abandoning my guitar and just singing.

All the musicians were cheerful as they arrived for the session and once we were set up we got underway, Mick suggesting tweaks as we worked through it.

 

I knew love when it still meant forever

When a feeling shared didn't always have to hurt

And a promise that was made would go unbroken

I knew love when it was more than just a word

 

I knew a time when hope was all you needed

And if you cared you found a way to make things work

When life was what two people shared together

Oh, I knew love when it was more than just a word

 

I knew love when I could still believe

It was the greatest power in the world

I knew love when it was more than just a word

 

I knew hearts when they made it all so easy

And sad goodbyes were seldom ever heard

When I wouldn't have to read this note that says you're leaving

I knew love when it was more than just a word

 

I knew love when I could still believe

It was the greatest power in the world

I knew love when it was more than just a word

I knew love when it was more than just a word

 

During a short break Rick was distracted by a phone call and went outside to take it while I talked to Mick about an idea I had for another arrangement.

"Cara? You got a minute?" Rick had come back into the room with a huge smile on his face.

"Sure Rick, what's up?"

"Actually," he cleared his throat loudly, looking around the studio, "Maybe everyone would like to hear this." Musicians and back up singers stopped their conversations and turned to him, curiosity piqued. Rick looked at me. "Cara, you've been invited to sing at the Brit Awards next month." There was a general hubbub of excitement and I found a wide grin on my face. "That's not all," Rick continued.

"Oh God, they don't want me to present as well, do they? Don't they know what a klutz I am? I would probably trip over on the way to the podium then drop the award on someone's toe."

"And talk their legs off while you were at the mic," Marcus added cheekily, making us all laugh. I agreed with him.

"No, it's not presenting." Rick's smile was even wider. Mick gasped and I glanced at him, wondering what could be going on.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You've been nominated for Brit Breakthrough Act," he said. I just stared, sure I'd heard him wrong.

"Wh-what?" Suddenly I had a multitude of arms flung around me as everybody hugged and congratulated me. I stood there stunned and bemused while Marcus jumped with glee and Mick high-fived Rick and Jake.

"Cara, that's fantastic!" Mick enthused.

"Fabulous, hon," Marcus kissed me on the cheek and gave me a huge smile.

"That's terrific, Cara, you deserve it," Jake said as he hugged me.

My head spun amongst the celebratory chatter all around, when suddenly a terrible thought occurred to me. "Oh God."

"What is it?" "What's wrong?"

"I can't win," I uttered.

"Why on earth not?" Mick looked amused.

I looked at them all, wondering why no one had made the connection yet; I would have expected Jake, Marcus or Rick to have worked it out. "Because," I said slowly, "I'd have to make a speech."

\---

"Darling, I am so incredibly proud of you."

"Thank you."

"I wish I were there in person to congratulate you."

"Then get your sorry arse home, Cumbers, I miss it – I mean you." I grinned as he laughed. "I'm not joking, Smaugbatch, I miss that gorgeous bum of yours."

"I know you do, my kooky queen, I miss yours too."

"And I thought you were a legs man," I teased. "Not that there's much of my legs – unlike some people I know with legs up to their chins." He laughed again and I sighed, missing him.

"They are beautiful legs though – when I get home I'll show you just how much I love them. Now, when are the Brit Awards?"

"February nineteenth. Please say you'll be back by then or I'll have to find another tall, handsome date." Nonno would be available, I guess. I switched my phone to my other hand as I looked out my window at the deluge outside; it had been raining buckets for almost twenty-four hours and showed no sign of easing. Raindrops chased each other at breakneck speed down the pane.

I could hear him clicking keys on his laptop, obviously checking his schedule. "You're in luck, wench, I fly in on the afternoon of the nineteenth."

"That's called flying by the seat of your pants, Cumbers."

"It certainly is, darling, but I'll be there for your big night; I wouldn't miss it for the world." I heard noise in the background so wasn't surprised at his next words. "Karon's here, sweetheart, I have to go."

"Okay. Call me tomorrow?"

"I will. I miss you darling and I love you, to the moon and back."

"Well now you're just showing off your lack of knowledge of astronomy, Sherlock; there's a whole galaxy out there I love you to."

His rich laughter filled my ears and warmed my heart.


	51. The Calm Before the Storm

I woke before dawn from a nightmare; one of those dreams where someone you love is in danger and despite all your frantic efforts, you are unable to save them. I'd been screaming in the dream but hoped I hadn't been for real or my neighbours would be wondering what the hell was going on. The moment I awoke the idea for a song came into my head and, happy to avoid the possibility of the nightmare returning if I went back to sleep, I got up and headed into the lounge, picking up my guitar and notebook. I opened the curtains and settled on the couch, turning the words and tune over in my head before committing them to paper. As I created the sun rose weakly in the sky, rays of pink and lilac washing over me before changing to the washed out palette of a winter day. I loved when the creative process took me like this; within two hours I had a complete song written and had made notes on my vision of the video – but it would take a fair amount of persuading on my part to see that vision come true.

Just after eight my phone rang. "Hello handsome. How is Tokyo?" I put Ben on speakerphone as I turned the jug on to boil and got a cup down from the cupboard, dropping in a peppermint tea bag.

"Hello love. Tokyo is lonely without you. Why aren't you here?"

"Hmm, something to do with not being invited, I'm pretty sure," I teased. "Not to mention loads of work to do here."

He gave a low growl. "How about a quick Skype so I can see your beautiful face?"

"What, have you forgotten what I look like already? You only saw it three days ago."

"Three days far too long ago. Now get your computer out, woman."

I laughed, moving to open my laptop. "Goodness, someone is a little grumpy and demanding today!" As I waited for it to boot up, I said, "Just give me a minute to pour my cuppa while it warms up."

"Chai?"

"Peppermint. It reminds me of your toothpaste." Ben's laugh rang out clearly and I smiled, pleased to have cheered him up. I logged on to Skype and in an instant his call came through, the video showing me he was in his hotel room, tie loosened and two buttons undone on his grey shirt. He'd been running his fingers through his hair, clearly, as it was mussed on top. I smiled at the sight. "Did they ask you lots of boring questions today, darling?" It was around five in the afternoon in Tokyo, so he would have had a busy day of interviews. When he raised a glass to his lips I could tell from the lemon and ice that it was a gin and tonic.

"They did. I've always thought I was fairly imaginative, but even I am running out of ways to answer the same question a million times."

"Poor famous movie star," I teased, pouting at him and doing a sad puppy dog face.

"Wench," he replied, laughing. "Do you expect me to believe you liked it when you were asked the same questions about your album over and over?" I laughed with him and conceded the point. "I see you had coffee with Tom yesterday," he commented.

"I did. He rang to ask for my pasta al forno recipe while I was out shopping, so I suggested we meet. Have you been speaking to him?"

"No love, someone kindly showed me pictures on the internet. Apparently we are now in a love triangle."

"Oh good grief! Seriously?" He nodded and took another sip of his drink. "I'm sorry, I had no idea a simple cup of coffee would stir up something like that..."

"It's all right, it's only a couple of the trashier sites. You're not actually leaving me for Tom are you?"

"No plans to do so at the moment, Cumbers, as long as you keep behaving yourself and dressing up as Mr Darcy for me occasionally." He groaned again and ran his hand through his hair while I just grinned at him.

"You are an incorrigible wench, Miss de Luca." His head was shaking side to side but I could see the half smile I loved so much tugging at his lips.

"Only for you, Snagglepatch," I assured him, whereupon his smile widened. "I love you Ben."

"I love you too darling. Can't wait to be with you again."

"It's only five more days." I could hear his phone chiming a message. "Is that Karon?"

"Yes," he sighed, looking at it. "We've got a dinner and then more interviews."

"I'd better let you go then. Don't you dare be late for my big night, Cumbers."

"I'll do my best, love."

"Perhaps I should tee Tom up to be ready as a substitute just in case you are? That would give the tabloids something to write about."

"Good God, you're a tease, woman!" I laughed and blew him a kiss, catching the one he pretended to reluctantly send back, glad to see a smile on his face as we logged off.

\---

I took my new song in and played it to Mick, who loved it and suggested it be the second single from the new album. He loved my ideas for the video too, so I spoke to Rick about it as well and he immediately got on the phone to begin organising.

The following day I received an email from Ed telling me another Sydney concert had been added to the sell-out tour and I needed to be in Australia on the fifth of March. I checked flights and time differences and replied that it wouldn't be a problem; forwarding the email to Rick so he could change our arrangements and to Ben so he would know what was happening.

That day and the next I took a break from recording the album to rehearse the two songs I would be singing at the Brit Awards. The first was scheduled for after the award for British Group, the second after the award for International Male Solo Artist.

On the morning of the nineteenth I woke at six a complete bundle of nerves. Shouldn't I be getting a little better at this by now? There are going to be huge crowds at Ed's concerts, I can't be shaking with fright every time. Oh God. Is it too early in the day for whiskey? Mmm, I guess so. Coffee, maybe coffee will help; real coffee, not the instant crap I have at my flat. Where's a good coffee place that will be open at this hour? And why didn't I buy myself a decent coffee machine for Christmas? Idiot.

Dressed warmly but casually, I grabbed my coat, hat, scarf and bag as I headed out. What the hell? Seriously, paps here at this ungodly hour of the morning? Are they crazy? Yes, of course I'm nervous about tonight, what kind of silly question is that? Yes, I am looking forward to the tour with Ed – another pointless question. Yes, Ben will be accompanying me to the awards. I hope. Now go away and let me get my coffee. Or not. Good grief. I trudged the three blocks to Java on Jasper, one of my favourite coffee shops and coincidentally the one where I'd been snapped with Tom last week. They opened early and served a wonderful double shot cappuccino guaranteed to give me the caffeine buzz I needed. Their cannoli was pretty darn good too, but I'd never tell that to my nonna. A couple of paps had come along with me and stationed themselves outside; I wondered if they thought this was a rendezvous with Tom and laughed to myself, not quite quietly enough not to earn a weird look from the lady at the next table. I have a feeling this is going to be a really loooooong day.

When the caffeine kicked in I felt more settled and picked up some of my favourite muesli from the health food store on my way home. The first bunch of flowers arrived not long after and by late morning my flat looked like a florist shop; I'd received bouquets of good wishes from Ben, Tom, my brothers, my grandparents, my friend Annie, Mick and Ben's parents. I had run out of vases and resorted to using old Marmite jars and a bucket.

Around one I noticed through the window there were still three photographers hanging around in the bitter cold so I made a pot of tea and took it out to them on a tray. As they drank it gratefully I assured them there would be nothing to see during the afternoon, but if they came back at six they could get shots of Ben and I heading off to The O2. I think the weather helped persuade them as the sky darkened even while we were talking, so after they'd finished the tea they all left and I went back inside, thinking how clever I was. When Ben rang ten minutes later to say he'd landed and would be here within the hour, I congratulated myself even more.

I was peering out the window and checking my watch every few minutes when I finally saw a familiar coat and long legs striding down my path; racing to my front door, I had it open before he reached it, throwing myself onto him over the welcome mat. As my arms wound around his neck and my legs around his strong thighs, he held me tight and carried me inside, shutting the door with his foot, as his hands were busy rediscovering my curves. Our lips were firmly locked together and I had no intention of them parting for a very long time – until, that is, he ripped his away and spoke.

"Darling..."

"Shhh." I put a finger on his lips to silence him then ran my hand through his curls, so soft and luxurious, tugging gently at the ends. He moaned and I kissed him. That's right Cumbers; this is what your lips are meant to be doing. He got the hint, bless him, and didn't try to speak again as he sat us on my couch. I whimpered when he gently bit my lower lip then soothed it with his tongue, gasped as he released my hair from the low knot I'd tied it into and combed it with his long fingers, moaned when his lips temporarily left mine to skim their way down my neck, setting off a tremor that shook my entire body. "Oh God," I murmured.

"Shhh," Ben replied, returning his lips to mine, but I was no longer satisfied with just kissing. I began pushing his coat off his shoulders, leaving him to get it off his arms while I worked on the buttons of his shirt, opening four then pushing my hands inside, thrilling when I felt him shiver. Our mouths parted as breathing became heavier but we didn't say anything, concentrating on removing each other's clothing as quickly as possible. Here, on the couch? No, it's not big enough, and too easily seen through the windows. Imagine if the paps came back and got that photo – oh God. A shudder ran through me.

"Cara?" Ben felt the shudder.

I merely shook my head as I climbed off his lap and took his hand to lead him to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind us. Removing our last articles of clothing, we finally stood skin to skin and I kissed him again, running my hands down his back to rest on the glorious orbs of his backside. "I missed you Cumberbum," I whispered into his neck.

"Incorrigible wench," he chuckled, and threw me on the bed.

\---

"Sweetheart, you need to start getting ready."

"I really don't. We can just stay here all night instead." What could possibly be better than being wrapped in Ben? Especially a naked Ben, all muscle and sex appeal. Mmm, we could...

"I think the organisers would notice when they announce you to perform and you're not there."

"Pffft. Beyoncè is going to be there, they won't miss me. She's flawless."

He groaned at my pun, turning me in his arms so we were face to face. "What about when you win the award?"

My eyes widened and my breathing stuttered. "I'm not going to win. I can't win."

His hand brushed some hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. "Why not, love?"

"Because I'd have to give a speech, Ben, and you know what I'm like when I'm nervous." His smile was so gorgeous I wanted to kiss him, so I did.

"You were fine on Graham Norton," he pointed out.

"Oh yes, apart from the whole 'today is Friday' episode," I countered, toying with this chest hair.

He grinned, the rat. "That was amusing, but not a disaster." He gathered me closer. "Just keep it simple," he advised, "Thank everybody and get off."

"Hmmphf; easy for you to say, you're an actor – words are your trade."

He pulled a face. "Well, I'd like to think I put a little more than just words in my performances, but however...point is, last time I checked, words are a major part of your trade too. You could always sing your acceptance if it keeps you calm."

"Oh yes, because I am not enough of a kook as it is," I think he got the sarcasm in my voice, judging by the big grin on his gorgeous cheeky face and his laugh as he began to slide out of bed. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to my place to get changed," he told me, pulling his trousers on. "Then I am coming back here to collect you and take you to the Brit Awards." He reached over to give my bum a playful slap as he said, "So get up and get yourself dressed, beautiful, so I can finally show you off to the rest of the world."

Well, that's not freakin' fair. Aw, now I feel all soft and mushy inside. Dammit, Cumbers!


	52. Big Night Out

The task of finding a dress to wear to the Brits had been at first excruciatingly frustrating and then, in the end, incredibly easy. I'd searched for hours online for something simple and classy yet glamorous enough to not look like Beyoncé's poor cousin. Ben had come to my rescue when I'd mentioned my dilemma, giving me the name of his stylist who he said had dressed him for many red carpet events, and so Toby had come into my life. I liked him the minute I met him, which was handy, as I had to be comfortable enough to stand before him in my underwear while he took measurements. I explained that I was rather good at tripping over my own feet and therefore dangerous if left in charge of really high heels – at which he'd snickered with laughter – and that I didn't want any plunging necklines. I didn't mind showing off 'the girls' a little, but didn't want to worry about them popping out all together in public, a la Janet Jackson.

"I hear you, sweetie, no wardrobe malfunctions. Now, with your hair and skin tone...hmm... I'm thinking soft and flowing..." He studied me intently then wandered around the room full of clothes that had taken my breath away when I'd first seen it, explaining that if he didn't have anything right on hand, we could look up collections online and have something delivered. Seconds later he came back with a dress that made me gasp. "I've got this Ellie Saab that wasn't right for Anne Hathaway the other day – what do you think?"

"I love it, can I try it on?"

"Honey, that's what we're here for." He helped me into it and zipped me up, smoothing the soft chiffon over my hips and playing with the folds to make them hang correctly. He wandered off again and came back with a pair of heels that matched perfectly but weren't so high that I'd be a risk to mankind and myself.

"Oh my God." And just like that, I'd found my dress.

Ben's reaction when he saw me in it was worth my original angst. "Darling, you...oh fuck..." His eyes swept me from head to toe as his hand ran through his hair. "You are so beautiful." An arm went around my waist, his hand splaying across my back as he pulled me carefully closer. "Am I allowed to kiss you or will it ruin makeup?"

I smiled. "Say hello to a little innovation called kissable lipstick Cumbers."

"Bless the woman who invented it," he murmured before bringing his lips to mine in a thoroughly sinful kiss that robbed my body of breath and cranked the temperature of the room up five degrees. When he finally let me go I had to cling on to his jacket so I didn't fall. "I've changed my mind about sharing you with the world," I could barely hear his soft words as he nuzzled my neck and shoulders, "I want to keep you here where all those other men can't see how gorgeous you are and try to steal you away from me."

If I'd still been nervous I would probably have grabbed his hand right there and then and hauled him into the bedroom, but ever since the comment he'd made earlier in the day, I had been in a strange and unfamiliar state of Zen. I was calm, collected and excited about singing tonight. It was weird, and if I hadn't been so Zen-like, I'd have been worried about how Zen-like I was. Wait, did that sentence even make sense? You know what? I don't care, that's how Zen I am. Ha! I promise you no alcohol or recreational drugs were involved in the creation of this Zen condition.

I murmured something or other in reply to his sweet remarks as he helped me on with my coat then collected my handbag and took Ben's hand as I locked my door and we headed down the path towards the waiting paparazzi. Thankfully, Ben had arranged a car and driver for this evening, so after posing for a few photos and ignoring shouted questions, we climbed in and were swept off to North Greenwich. Plenty more photographers waited at the venue, of course, the flashes almost blinding as we made our way along the red carpet. I was asked to sign CDs and take selfies with fans as well as short TV interviews. For each of those Ben stood patiently in the background, chatting with anyone who came along, then clasped my hand firmly again when I rejoined him. It made me smile to think we'd be doing this in reverse at the Oscars in a couple of weeks' time.

Once inside we were directed to our table where we greeted Rick, Jake and Marcus who were already in lively conversation with those at nearby tables. Still feeling Zen-like, I accepted the glass of wine I was offered by a passing waiter, thanking Ben when he held my chair for me.

"You would never know that was your first red carpet," he whispered close to my ear, "You handled it like a seasoned professional."

"I've been watching you on YouTube," I grinned, "to see how it's done." From the way his forehead wrinkled I could see he wasn't sure whether or not to believe me, so I laughingly shook my head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "No, love, I'm only teasing."

"Behave yourself," his breath fluttered across my face, "or you'll be needing to reapply that lipstick again." My grin widened and when I caught his eye, I winked. He winked back.

\---

With the awards for male solo artist and female solo artist out of the way, the group award was coming up so the guys and I headed backstage to get ready for my first performance. Bruno Mars was currently on stage singing 'Treasure' and the audience loved it.

I was excited for the reaction to my first song, as it was one of the new ones I'd written and would be on my second album. Mick had worked extra hard to help me have it ready in time to be released as a single today, in conjunction with my appearance here, so that fans could buy it directly after the show if they wanted to.

With Bruno finished, James Corden introduced Lily Allen to present the British Group award – which was won, fairly predictably, by Arctic Monkeys – and while that was happening we went onstage. My song had a very short instrumental intro, so I was almost at my mic by the time James announced my name. "Her first two singles both played in the Top Ten for four weeks and her first album has just gone platinum. She's nominated tonight for British Breakthrough Act – please welcome Cara de Luca."

A kaleidoscope of colour lit behind me, Jake played the opening guitar chords and I began.

 

I found myself dreaming

It's over and gone

Like a scene from a movie

That every broken heart knows

We were walking on moonlight

And you pulled me close

Split second and you disappeared

And then I was all alone

I woke up in tears

With you by my side

Breath of relief

And I realised

No, we're not promised tomorrow

 

So I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

I'm gonna hold you like I'm saying goodbye

Wherever we're standing

I won't take you for granted

'Cause we'll never know when, when we'll run out of time

So I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

 

In the blink of an eye

Just a whisper of smoke

You could lose everything

The truth is you never know

So I'll kiss you longer baby

Any chance that I get

I'll make the most of the minutes

And love with no regrets

Let's take our time to say what we want

Use what we've got before it's all gone

'Cause no, we're not promised tomorrow

 

So I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

I'm gonna hold you like I'm saying goodbye

Wherever we're standing

I won't take you for granted

'Cause we'll never know when, when we'll run out of time

So I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

 

I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

And I'm gonna hold you like I'm saying goodbye

Wherever we're standing

I won't take you for granted

'Cause we'll never know when, when we'll run out of time

So I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

 

The last chorus was quieter, softer, and I looked directly to where Ben was sitting, singing to him alone. When it was over I took my bow, ecstatic, having seen the audience clapping in time with the choruses; applause was thunderous and Rick was particularly buoyed up as we came off. "I predict great sales tonight and tomorrow," he told me, "That was a terrific performance, Cara."

"Thanks Rick. You guys were incredible as always." We hugged and I smiled my serene Zen smile.

When we returned to our table Ben stood to hold my chair for me then moved his own closer and put his arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss in my hair. I saw the shimmer of tears when I looked at him and reached up a hand to wipe them gently away. "Don't cry Mr Franklin," I whispered.

"Darling," his forehead lowered to touch mine. "That was...so beautiful, I...I can't believe how talented you are...thank you."

"I have exceptionally wonderful inspiration," I told him, cupping his cheek with my hand before giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

\---

We watched Beyoncè and Ellie Goulding perform before the award for International Group was given to Daft Punk, then after songs from Disclosure and Lorde it was time for my category. I was still feeling Zen-like, comfortable with my left hand held tightly in Ben's on his leg and his right arm around me. I was up against Bastille, Disclosure, Laura Mvula and Tom Odell, so there was stiff competition and I had no expectations of winning.

Tinie Tempah and Fearne Cotton were presenting and made some small talk before announcing the nominees. Then came the tense moment.

"And the winner is..." Tinie opened the card, showing it to his co-host who joined him in calling out..."Cara de Luca."

Loud applause broke out and I was pulled up from my seat by Ben, who hugged me tight, kissed me and said something in my ear but the noise of the crowd and the excitement pulsing through me prevented me from making it out. I hugged the others before Rick pushed me towards the stage.

At the bottom of the stairs a woman handed me a microphone and I held it and my dress very carefully, concentrating hard on not tripping or falling over. Once I was given the award – a small statuette with a stylised compact disc attached at the top – I turned to the main part of the room, looking around at the faces of icons of the industry as well as relative newcomers like me.

"Oh God, this is...wow...such an honour. Thank you so much to everyone who bought my music, to my family – my grandparents and my brothers. Thank you to Eleanor and Mick, who were the catalysts for this incredible ride I've been on and for Mick's masterful production of my music; to Rick, Marcus and Jake for your friendship and support – especially Rick, who is an awesome manager." I paused and took a breath. "And thanks to Ben," I turned to where I knew our table was, finding his face amongst the crowd, "who as well as loving, supporting and encouraging me, has helped me to grow both as an artist and as a person, and who I love so very, very much." He had a gigantic smile on his face and I knew it was one of love and pride. What came out of my mouth next was not planned or expected – I like to think it was a product of my Zen-like state, because if I'd been my usual nervous wreck I would never have had the courage to say it in front of twenty thousand people and a television audience of millions. But I wasn't nervous, and I didn't think about all the people watching. I didn't think at all, I just blurted out what felt in my heart to be the right thing to say. "Will you marry me?"

A lot of the crowd nearby gasped, especially those near him who could tell who I was talking to. Many other heads turned and looked around to find who it was, but I had eyes only for him and my heart halted for a fraction of a minute while I waited for his answer, then resumed beating again when I saw him nod and mouth 'Yes'.

"Yes?" I asked. "That's a yes?" He nodded and mouthed it again – said it, probably, but I couldn't hear him – and I felt a huge smile creep over my face; a smile so wide I knew I would have trouble wiping it off. "He said yes," I told the crowd, who laughed and applauded. I turned to give the microphone to the person nearest to me without noticing who it was, took my award in one hand and lifted the skirt of my dress in the other, and made my way down the front of the stage and headed towards Ben. The sea of faces and bodies were a blur as I moved as swiftly as my heels would allow, keeping him in my sights. He was up and out of his seat and coming towards me too; when we met I ran straight into his embrace and lifted my lips to his, my arms going around his neck as his encircled my waist.

"You didn't think about waiting until we were alone?" he asked, still with a huge smile.

"You know the saying, Cumbers," I replied, "Go big or go home."

He laughed, and kissed me again.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I know," he smiled back, and we both laughed before I kissed him once more - then, realising a lot of eyes were still on us, I took his hand and led him to the nearest exit.


	53. The Evening that Bombed

"Darling, I didn't do a terribly good job of that, I'm sorry." We'd snuck out of the auditorium for a few moments alone, but I knew I had to go back for interviews, photographs and, of course, to perform my second song.

"I think you did fine; you covered the most important aspect, love." Ben's hands held my face as he kissed me.

"Well, yes, but I didn't get down on one knee and I don't have a ring to give you. I really should have thought it through." A terrible thought occurred to me. "Oh God – you didn't feel pressured to say yes because of everyone watching, did you? Ben, I..."

He cut me off in a most pleasing way then chuckled softly, "No, my darling – nothing would have stopped me saying yes to that particular question. The one knee thing doesn't matter, it would have been impractical in your dress and heels on that small stage, but...if you're worried about a ring..." He let go of me with one hand and reached into his jacket, pulling out a small jeweller's box, which he opened to reveal the most exquisite diamond ring I had ever seen.

" He let go of me with one hand and reached into his jacket, pulling out a small jeweller's box, which he opened to reveal the most exquisite diamond ring I had ever seen

"Ben! You...oh my God...did you...when...I..." He has a ring? Holy shit! Wait...what? Does that mean he was going to...I gazed in complete astonishment at the ring and then at his face; he was smiling at me, the most beautiful and perfect smile I had ever seen and my heart rolled cartwheels in my chest.

"You beat me by a few hours, love," he said.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, feeling bad for unknowingly stealing his moment.

"Don't be," he said, taking my hand and sliding the ring on to my finger. It was a perfect fit. "We have the most amazing story to tell our children of how their mother proposed to me in front of millions of people."

Children? No...I will not cry, I will not cry, I...oh fuck.

\---

Chaos. Our lives have become chaos. It seems as if from the moment I went backstage for the obligatory interviews and photos after winning the Brit award, I have spent almost every non-working minute since with a phone at my ear or a microphone or camera in my face – often all three. If retinas can be damaged by prolonged or extensive exposure to camera flashes, mine are done and dusted. If constant social smiling and answering inane questions can permanently destroy facial muscles, mine have no hope of recovery. The swarm of paparazzi that followed us relentlessly seemed to have quadrupled in size and Rick told me media outlets around the globe were clamouring for shots of us. It was then that the reality of Ben's celebrity status really sunk in and almost managed to drain every ounce of pleasure from being engaged to the most glorious God of kissing put on this planet.

Almost.

Because, let's face it, what could be more wonderful than being showered with love and attention from the sweetest, sexiest, most amazing man I know? The answer – as if you had any doubt – is nothing. Nothing is more incredible than being engaged to Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch – good Lord, that's a mouthful - although, when I allow myself to think about it, maybe being actually married to him will be even better.

Fuck.

Yes, I've become a person who thinks and occasionally utters that word. Fuck. I told Ben he's been a bad influence on me but he insisted its payback for my kookiness rubbing off on him, so I guess we're all fair and square then, yes? I don't say it around my grandparents though – just thinking about nonna and soap makes me shudder in fear.

As for the ring he surprised me with that night...well. I would admire it frequently throughout the day as I went about my business, turning my hand this way and that so it caught the light and sparkled joyfully at me. Not that that was difficult – there were so many diamonds on this thing I sometimes thought the sparkle would be seen from Mars. Smaller diamonds surrounded the large central pave-cut diamond and there were even more on the yellow gold band – it was absolutely stunning. I had made sure I took all night to thank Ben very thoroughly for that lovely adornment.

"You ready Cara?"

Mick clapped a hand on my shoulder and brought me back to Earth from my musings. We were in the studio working on the last song for my new album and during a short break I had drifted off into my thoughts while he and Rick discussed...um, I don't know, something music related.

"Yes." I picked up my guitar and went back to the microphone, looking to Marcus to count us in with a three-four drumbeat.

The next night I was thrilled to be in the audience as Ben and co-stars recorded the very last episode of Cabin Pressure, so we had in common the ending of a much-loved project. The future glittered with new opportunities.

\---

"Will I have time to do any shopping in LA?" The suitcase in front of me was barely half filled. Ben's, in contrast, sat practically full on the other side of the bed. Considering I was going away for two months and he only for a week, it seemed a little unbalanced, but – to be fair – his case was smaller than mine. Just.

"I'll arrange it, sweetheart. Do you need it before the awards?" Ben sounded a little worried, not surprisingly, I guess, as we were due to land only eight hours before the ceremony.

"No, no; Toby fixed me up with a dress for the Oscars, but I need to get some more things for the tour. I can't buy any summery stuff here at the moment, of course, and I'm worried everything I've got is going to be too heavy for the heat in Australia. With the lights on stage, I'm liable to melt into a big puddle."

Arms came around me and I was pulled gently backwards to lean against a firm, warm chest. Tender fingers swept my hair to one side as his lips found their way to my neck and tingles shot through me from head to toe.

"And you'll be the most beautiful puddle Australia ever saw, my love."

I groaned. "Is that supposed to reassure me, Sweatypatch?" I turned my head to look at him and he took the opportunity to capture my lips. His two-day-old scruff scratched delightfully against my skin and I moaned quietly into his mouth, turning in his arms and reaching my fingers up to run through his curls as hands on my back pulled me closer.

"Darling, we have an hour before-" he began, but I interrupted by yanking his shirt out of his trousers and reaching for his belt buckle. "Oh, okay." He pulled my jumper over my head then worked on his shirt buttons as I removed my long skirt and boots. "Shall I move the..."

"No," I interrupted once more, pulling him down with me, "there's a perfectly good floor right here."

\---

"Oh my God...I can't...I can't believe you just did that..." I was having trouble speaking around my laughter, clutching at my sides as I struggled to contain myself for fear of ending up collapsing on the ground in mirth. "Ben, you...you are...such a kook!" Behind me, Karon looked like she couldn't decide whether to laugh or call for help for her client gone crazy.

We were at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood – well, outside it, to be precise – and had been wandering down the 500 foot-long red carpet while Ben greeted fellow actors and people he'd worked with. As he had been in three American movies to come out in the previous year – Star Trek: Into Darkness, 12 Years a Slave and August: Osage County – there were quite a few of them. Meeting major movie stars like Julia Roberts and Meryl Streep had me pinching myself and when he told me we'd be sitting next to Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie I gulped through a suddenly very dry mouth.

There were vodka shots being sent around – by Ellen DeGeneres, apparently - and I knew Ben had downed a couple of them, but hadn't expected they would affect him enough to think up such an act of...I'm not even sure how to describe it. Lunacy? Tomfoolery? Sabotage? Judging by the number of camera flashes I'd noticed as he'd carried out his impromptu performance, this would be all over the internet and entertainment pages within hours and someone nearby was saying it had been caught on video as well, so I was pretty sure we'd be able to YouTube it later.

And, of all people to photo-bomb, why pick U2? I mean, everyone knew Bono had no sense of humour. What was he thinking?

I giggled again as Ben put his arm around me, a wide grin on his face. "I told you your kookiness has rubbed off on me," he claimed. He looked as adorably handsome as ever in his black suit and tie, his hair smoothed of its curls except for a stray piece at the front that had come loose after his prank and fallen over his brow.

I combed it back into place with my fingers then shook that hand at him, index finger raised, "Don't you lay the blame for this on me, Bomb-batch."

He laughed at the name and caught hold of my hand, raising it to his lips. "I'll tell everyone you dared me to do it, darling." And he did too, the rat.

Sitting in the theatre was a mind-blowing experience for me, not least because I wouldn't have been able to sneeze without covering at least a dozen major movie stars. Our row and those in front and behind held those involved in 12 Years a Slave, which had been nominated in a number of categories. When Ben introduced me to Michael Fassbender I had trouble hiding my blush, thinking of the time I'd joked about his bum.

Ellen's opening monologue had us chuckling; her remark about the rain striking a chord as we'd left such miserable weather in London only hours before. When she made the joke about a Liza Minnelli look-alike I leaned forward in my seat to see, as I'd long loved Liza's singing; when Ellen said "Good job, sir" I couldn't help a loud chuckle escaping. Later on I teased Ben about jumping in to the photo Ellen was taking with Chiwetel Ejiofor and, of course, also teased him about the fan-girl look on his face when he came onstage with Jennifer Garner to present the award for Achievement in Production Design. It was so adorable I almost melted. I held his hand and squeezed it tight as he teared up listening to the acceptance speech by Lupito Nyong'o and clapped like crazy when he went up on stage with the others when 12 Years won the coveted Best Picture Oscar. By the time the ceremony ended I felt like I'd been through an emotional wringer – and there were still after-parties to attend.

We eventually got back to our rather luxurious hotel room around three in the morning, thoroughly worn out from partying and jetlag.

"What did you think of your first Oscars experience, darling?" I asked Ben as we got ready for bed.

"It was pretty incredible," he told me, hanging his suit jacket. "Hopefully I'll get the chance to experience it again."

I looked him in the eye as I removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. "One day you'll be back for a Best Actor nomination."

"Cara...darling, you are too sweet. Thank you. You're so good for my ego."

"I mean it, Ben. You are crazy talented, my love."

"As are you, future Mrs Cumberbatch." He unzipped my dress, picking it up when I stepped out of it and hung it carefully, then held out a hand to me. "Now come to bed."

Future Mrs Cumberbatch? That sounded rather...nice.


	54. Down Under

Author's Note: the term Pommie is used in this chapter. This is a phrase Aussies and Kiwis use to describe someone from England (also Pom).

 

"Let me go, Rick. Let me just get on a plane and fly home; I can't do this any more."

"You can, Cara, it's only for a few more weeks. If you left now you would be letting down Ed and all your fans and you and I both know you wouldn't do that."

God dammit! "Why do you have to be so damn right all the time; it's incredibly annoying!"

Rick gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I know, that's what Jake and Marcus say too."

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. "Then help me. How do I stop missing him so much? It wasn't this bad when we were on tour with Eleanor."

"We were in the UK," Rick shrugged, "so you knew if it got really bad you could jump on a plane and be with him in an hour or two. Here, it's twenty-four hours on a plane to where he is and that's messing with your head. And besides," he grabbed my left hand and held it up, chuckling, "this hadn't happened then."

I grunted. He was right. Again.

Pulling me in for a hug, he kissed my hair and said, "I can't help you stop missing him, love, I can only be here to wipe the tears and kick you back up on stage."

Hugging him back, I managed a small laugh. "You're doing a great job at that, especially the kicking part."

"That's what friends are for," he grinned, and I punched his arm as I wiped the moisture from my cheeks. "So, you're good? Crisis averted?" Though his words were businesslike, his tone was kind and caring and I hugged him again before releasing him and nodding my head.

"I'm good," I confirmed. "Thanks Rick."

"No problem. You coming down for breakfast?"

"Sure."

\---

"The CDs are selling so fast I might need to order more. Aussies love you Cara. The other merch is moving well too."

"Other merchandise?" There was other stuff? What on earth was I selling apart from CDs?

"Tee-shirts and hats."

What? "People are buying tee-shirts with me on them?"

"Your album cover design."

"Oh." Well, shit, I didn't know that. "Did I know that?"

Rick looked up from his paperwork. "Sure. But it all happened about the time that crap was going down with your dad, so..."

"Oh, okay." Let's not go there. "Can I get a couple?"

"Of your own tees?" I nodded. "Of course. What sizes?" I gave him sizes for nonno and Ben and wondered if I should get them for Tony and Marco too, but before I could decide, the Sherlock theme tune sounded from the pocket of my dress.

"Hello my wonderful husband-to-be," I smiled.

"Hello my incredible wife-to-be," Ben's deep voice replied. "How are things Down Under?"

"Exciting and exhilarating are the first two words that come to mind, followed closely by hot and humid. It's an alliteration paradise."

His laughter made my heart skip a beat. "I'm very glad exciting and exhilarating made it to the top of the list. What are you doing right now? Am I interrupting something important?"

"I'm just doing some tour stuff with Rick but I'm sure he can spare me for a few minutes." I looked to Rick, who smiled and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. I walked along the corridor to my own room.

"So, I have some good news," Ben told me.

"Ooo, guessing game?" I loved playing this with him; I made my guesses as kooky as I could to amuse him. It was better in person, of course, so I could see the way his lips tilted up at the corners and his eyebrows rose, or when he tried to put on his actor face so I couldn't read it.

"Of course. Take your best shot."

I settled myself comfortably on the bed and thought about my first guess. "Hmm, you're getting a knighthood in the Queen's Birthday Honours?" He rewarded that guess with a throaty chuckle and I imagined feeling it rumble in his chest. "No? Okay, are you...joining the cast of 'I'm a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here'?" His answering laughter made me grin ear to ear.

"No, darling, but in a way you're getting warmer."

"Ah, intriguing. Let's see...DreamWorks have decided to make you voice the baby penguin character instead of the wolf?"

"Oh God, don't even joke about that."

"You would be adorable doing a baby penguin voice," I giggled. "All right; do I have one more guess?"

"Last one, kooky queen. Make it a good one."

"Right...hmm...okay, I've got it. You really do love to wear my lacy underwear and you've decided to design your own range for men and sell them."

I held the phone tight to my ear and closed my eyes as I imagined seeing his face right now. He'd start with a shocked look as he made a snorting noise, after which he'd blush a little with embarrassment and look down at his shoes and there'd be only silence for a few seconds, and then he'd get this really sexy look on his face as he growled at me and got all macho. Finally he'd bluster at me.

Snort. Silence. Growl. And... "Good grief woman!" There's the bluster. I hugged myself in glee. "It's just as well you're so far away, or so help me, I'd..." Between my giggles I managed to ask what he'd do. "I'd...throw you over my shoulder, smack your backside and haul you off to bed to ravage you for hours."

"Well, remind me to bring up lacy underwear just the second I get home," I said, suddenly feeling hot and bothered under the collar at the image in my head.

"You won't have to wait that long, my darling, that's my news. Peter Jackson needs me to do a little more voice work for the third movie and I'm coming to Wellington to do it. I'll be there next week when you're doing your gig."

"Ben! Oh my God!" My squeals could probably be heard from Rick's room but I didn't care. "Darling, that's...oh God, that's so..." I squealed again, unable to find a superlative sufficient for how I was feeling. I hurled myself off the bed and jumped around the room doing a jig of joy. Ben chuckled and I could tell he was thrilled at my reaction.

\---

In spite of having grown up the only girl with two brothers, at times I was finding it frustrating being surrounded by so many men. There were the four guys of Rudimental – Piers, Amir, Kesi and Leon, who I'd met at the Brit Awards - and Michael, aka Passenger, together with Ed of course, his band members and mine. While they were all great guys and I enjoyed their company most of the time, occasionally there was just too much testosterone in the room. Thankfully I had the company of Meagan, one of Ed's backup singers. She came from Liverpool, meaning we only understood about 80% of each other's conversations, but we shared a wacky sense of humour and a love of all things geeky.

After our show in Brisbane a group of us had gone out to a nightclub, enjoying a few drinks and some dancing. I discovered it was a great way to work off the adrenalin high I got from performing to such a large and very receptive audience and had let my inhibitions down as I gyrated with Meagan, Marcus and Leon. As a song ended, Meagan and I were heading to the ladies room when two men blocked our path.

"Come on, lovely ladies, how about giving us a dance, eh?" the brunette spoke. He was reasonably good looking, I guess, solid but muscly in a construction worker kind of way.

I spoke before Meagan could, pretty sure the Aussies would have trouble understanding her accent. "No, thank you. We're here with friends." I knew Meagan had a steady girlfriend back home and I certainly wasn't interested.

Muscles didn't seem happy with that answer though. "You're a Pommie, eh? Come on, one dance; we'll show you how real blokes do it." The waggle of his eyebrows suggested he wasn't just talking about dancing and I began to feel queasy.

"No, really, we don't want to dance, thank you." I waved my left hand around a little, hoping they'd see the diamond ring and take the hint. Meagan took my arm and we tried to skirt around a group of people nearby, but the two men merely sidestepped and were in our way once again. I sighed, foreseeing trouble. Where were Marcus and Leon and the others?

The dark-curly-haired one spoke for the first time. "What's wrong? We just want to have a dance, where's the harm in that?" He took a step towards us and I instinctively stepped back.

"No fellas, swerve. That's proper divvy. We just wanna have a bevvie with our auld mates, yeah? So step out or I'll give youse down the banks." I blinked at Meagan, understanding less than half of what she'd said and rather surprised, as I hadn't heard her sound quite so Scouse before.

"What the fuck?" both men growled. "Are you taking the piss?" Curly asked, not looking happy at all. I took another step back, grabbing Meagan's arm and pulling her with me.

"Now look..." I began, but was interrupted by a male voice I recognised speaking in a low, controlled tone.

"Don't you know that when a lady says no, she means no? Now go back to the rock you crawled out from under and let them through." I peered over my shoulder to see Jake, Marcus, Amir, Sam and Leon ranged behind us, looking like they meant business, and I sighed in relief.

A little too soon, it turned out, because the next thing I knew Meagan and I were ungently pushed to the side and there were fists flying everywhere. I got a punch in the ribs and bent over, winded, copping an elbow to my face as well. I heard grunts and groans and the sounds of fists meeting flesh all around me and looked around to check Meagan was okay, seeing her stab the heel of her strappy shoe into someone's foot. When it seemed like all around us was chaos, some burly guys in suits – the club's bouncers, I assumed – arrived and began trying to break it up. Curly foolishly took a swing at one of them and promptly ended up flat on the floor with what I suspected would be a broken nose, which thankfully made Muscles think better of it and he was manhandled towards the exit; the next minute, so were we and the cops were called.

After we'd explained what had happened and determined that Curly had thrown the first punch, we were asked if we wanted to press charges. We looked at one another and I shook my head at Jake, who confirmed with the others and said no, we didn't. Apart from a few minor cuts and bruises, we'd gotten off fairly lightly and speaking for myself, I just wanted to get out of here and forget all about it. I was going to have a lovely black eye by morning, I was pretty sure; Meagan had a bruise developing on her arm and Jake, Leon and Sam all had small cuts and bruises as well.

"Are you sure you don't need medical attention Cara?" Marcus asked me, looking concerned.

I put my hand on his arm in reassurance. "I'm fine, really. I'd like to get back to the hotel and get some ice on it though."

Once we left our details and got the all clear from the police, we took taxis back to the hotel, coming across Ed in the lobby who naturally wanted to know what had happened.

"Guys, I'm going to my room, okay? I'll see you in the morning." I checked that the others would be okay and have their wounds tended to, then waved and left them to tell the story, going to my room and emptying the ice tray from the small fridge into a hand towel and holding it against my cheek as I sunk exhausted on to the bed. I was shaking a little with shock but that was gone ten minutes later when Ed knocked on my door. He was adamant that I be seen by a medical professional, saying I needed to make sure there was no internal damage or chance of concussion and although I felt he was being overly cautious and flatly refused to spend all night in a hospital emergency room, I finally agreed to allow a doctor to come to the hotel room. Another hour went by before I was given the all clear and could crawl into bed, thoroughly drained, and fall into a deep sleep.

By that time photos of our fracas were already appearing on Twitter and Instagram.


	55. Caveman Ben

Oh God, it's going to take a truckload of makeup to cover this up. Well, we're only travelling today, there's no shows to do; maybe I don't really need to cover it, the guys aren't going to worry, plus they'll have their own scars from last night's shenanigans. We can be the walking wounded on tour.

The artificial lighting over the bathroom mirror wasn't helping any, but still it was a hell of a shiner. I heard my phone vibrate an incoming message and picked it up. Eight messages from Ben – uh oh, that can't be good.

Ben: Darling I saw the photos, are you all right? xx

Ben: Please let me know you're okay. xx

Ben: Call me. xx

Ben: What the hell happened?

Ben: Darling I'm worried about you.

Ben: Skype me. Please.

Ben: You're not concussed are you?

Ben: Fuck!

The last one made me giggle, until it hurt and I stopped. Pulling my laptop over, I fumed when the damn thing started doing an automatic software update. Bloody technology! Okay, phone it is. It barely rang a second time before he picked up.

"Cara-"

I interrupted him, knowing he needed reassuring. "Darling, I'm fine, I really am; just a black eye and a small bruise on my side. The doctor checked me out and pronounced me fit as a fiddle. Please stop worrying."

All I could hear from his end was heavy breathing – not the creepy kind or sexy kind, the I-can-barely-control-my-anger kind. I knew it well, after all.

"Ben?" I ventured.

"Skype. Now."

My computer had finished its update but judging by the growl in his voice, I wasn't sure that seeing my face was a good idea. "Are you sure you want to-"

"Cara, I want to see what those bastards did to you. Get. On. Skype. NOW."

Oh my. I haven't met this version of Ben before. I've met sweet Ben, kind Ben, flirty Ben, goofy Ben, and a whole host of other Bens, but this...this is fiercely protective Ben. This is I'll-beat-the-shit-out-of-anyone-who-messes-with-my-woman Ben. And fuck, that's hot. I started doing some heavy breathing of my own as I logged on and accepted his call.

Dammit, why does he have to look hot too? Hair in complete disarray as if he'd been running his hands through it for hours – which he could well have done, I guess. Top two shirt buttons undone and collar askew as if he'd ripped his tie off and tossed it aside without bothering to smooth the collar down again. Chest rising and falling in an agitated manner and his face – his face looked...how do I describe it? It looked...caveman, yes, that's it. He looked caveman. Shit. Fuck. Ovaries? Your work is done; Elvis has left the building.

"Turn your head so I can see better." I turned my head to the left so he could see my right eye, at the moment a rather garish shade of eggplant and plum. I heard him draw in a hissed breath and held my own, wondering what his reaction was going to be. "Does it hurt?" It sounded like the words had been dragged over a bed of broken glass.

"No, it doesn't hurt."

"Cara."

"All right, it hurts a little."

"Cara."

"Okay, it hurts a lot. But only when I touch it. Or laugh. Or frown." I added the last one because I'd just learned it from experience.

He hissed again. "Show me your side."

Seriously, he was going to have to stop with the Caveman Ben or I would end up in a puddle of desire on my hotel room floor. What are you thinking Cara? Are you crazy? You don't want him to stop!

This time his reaction was a grunt and I snuck a look at his face, thereby promptly losing control of my legs, sitting with a thump on the bed and bouncing my laptop around.

"What the fuck? Are you all right? Cara, talk to me; what happened?"

Just me swooning, Cavebatch. Nothing to worry about. I may have lost the power of speech though, as well as the use of my knees.

"Cara!"

"I'm...okay...just...give me a minute."

"Do you need to call 999? Oh fuck, what's the emergency number in Australia?" I didn't know but I doubted they'd have a cure for what I was suffering from. "Shit. Fuck." What the hell is he doing?

"Ben..."

"What?"

Deep breath. "I'm fine sweetheart, calm down. I just...tripped over a shoe." Small white lie. Okay, large black lie. Semantics.

"Jesus Christ woman, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Worry and concern had robbed his face of some of the caveman features, making it safer for me to look at him on screen without fainting from lust. Oh heck, why did I have to use that word?

"I'm sorry, lust. I mean, love. I'm sorry, love." Shit! I couldn't look him in the eye now, choosing instead to stare at the tufts of hair that peeped out where his shirt was undone. I loved running my fingers through those after...

"Sweetheart?" The tone of his voice had changed; it was more subdued, less violent and ever so slightly...interrogative.

"Yes, love?" I kept my eyes on his chest, idly wondering which shower gel he'd used today – the one that smelled like the woods after rain or the one scented with leather and juniper oil.

"Look at me."

"I am looking at you and you look very...handsome." Hot, you look hot. Hot, hot, hotty McHot.

"Look me in the eyes."

Crap. Diversionary tactics! "You have gorgeous eyes, Ben, I've always loved your eyes. I often stare in them and try to count the gold flecks..."

"Cara..." That's laughter in his voice, I'm sure it is. He's laughing at me? My eyes meet his and I instantly know that was a mistake; I'm now like the fly mesmerised by the bug-zapper. 'Stay away from the light.' 'But it's so beautiful.' Zap! "Darling, you're trying to distract me." Try. To. Look. Away. No. Can't. Do. It. "You mentioned the word 'lust'." Widen your eyes, Cara; look surprised. Don't blush. No, don't...ah crap. My face was hot enough to fry an egg on.

"No, I...well, you..." While my tongue is tied up in knots, his lips pull up at the side in the adorable half smile that gets me right in the womb every time and I'm melting further into a puddle.

Wait, what is he doing? He's...oh my freaking God, he's undoing his shirt buttons. Slowly. Teasingly. My eyes flicker quickly back to his and they're full on smiling at me now. "Are you feeling a little...lustful, darling?" His head tilts to one side as two more buttons outlive their usefulness. Now there's a glimpse of abs and his adorably cute belly button – he's an 'innie' by the way. In case you were wondering.

I merely nod, the blush that had been receding returning in full force.

"Tell me." Oh God, Caveman Ben is back. Puddle, puddle, puddle. Then he takes his shirt off all together and at the sight of his body I am done for. I spill everything, all my lustful thoughts and how Caveman Ben is so hot. By the end of my sordid story I am practically drooling all over the keyboard and the monitor is fogging up. Ben smiles wickedly and issues a command, "Take off your singlet." I'd been sleeping in a singlet and panties; it was way too hot for pyjamas.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Ben, I...we're leaving in..." I glance quickly at the clock beside the bed. "In an hour, and I haven't packed."

"Then you'd better stop questioning me and follow instructions or you are going to be a very frustrated fiancé."

Oh God. Someone put the air conditioner on to 'Arctic'; it's getting awfully warm in here.

"Ben, are you...are we...?"

"Not we," he shakes his head, "just you. Now take your things off and do exactly as I tell you."

Holy fuck.

I obeyed every word and made our departure on time. Just. And definitely not frustrated.


	56. Windy City

The day hadn't begun well; Fate and baggage handlers, it seemed, had most definitely not been on our side.

We had dragged our sorry butts out of bed at three in the morning to catch a six thirty flight from Perth to Wellington via a brief stopover in Sydney, but QANTAS baggage handlers at Australia's busiest airport were apparently in dispute with the airline over health and safety concerns and all international flights had been held up indefinitely.

"Tony's looking into flights taking a different route," Rick told me, barely looking up from his phone as he punched out a message to someone. I was too sleepy to do more than nod. Some of the guys had not bothered going to bed, I knew, but I had made sure everything was packed and ready before lying down fully clothed. I'd set my alarm but luckily Rick had come hammering on my door because I'd slept right through it.

I yawned and stretched. "What time is it in Wellington?" I asked the group in general.

"They're five hours ahead," Leon grunted and I began to sleepily do the math before Ed put me out of my misery and told me it was nine am over there.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"We'll try to still get you there in time for a reunion," Ed winked and grinned at me as he put air quotes around the last word. Everyone knew – courtesy of Marcus – that Ben would be waiting for me in New Zealand.

I grinned back. "See that you do. It's been seven weeks, dammit." They all laughed and a couple of the guys slapped me on the back.

"You've given him tickets for the show, haven't you?" Ed asked. As if I wouldn't; two of my songs were written for him and I had something special planned for my last number as well. I nodded and Ed added, "Let me know if he wants more, it's not a problem." I thanked him again then leaned back and shut my eyes. All this wasted time should be good for a catnap, at least.

Ten minutes later Tony – Ed's manager – reported that the only commercial flight that didn't go through Sydney had a five hour stopover in Melbourne and wouldn't get us to New Zealand in time for the show tonight. He was now making enquiries about chartering a private plane. I dozed against Marcus's shoulder until the smell of coffee captured my attention, sitting up just as Jake handed me a hot, steaming cup. Over the past week I'd noticed that he and Meagan seemed to be hitting it off rather well and I watched them now as I sipped my caffeine pick-me-up. Meagan's face looked soft and sweet as she talked, Jake hanging on her every word then laughing shyly – wait; Jake, shy? I sat up a little more, trying not to be too obvious about spying on them but highly intrigued at this new side to my old friend.

I glanced at Marcus and noticed him looking in the same direction I was. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, B1?" I asked out of the side of my mouth, quoting a children's cartoon show I had watched in my youth and which, I had discovered since being in Australia, had originated here.

He chuckled quietly. "God, Cara, you are such a kook."

"Come on," I nudged him in the side.

He sighed, giving in to my childish whimsy. "I think I am, B2."

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Marcus groaned then offered, "He talks about her quite a bit."

"She hasn't talked about him at all," I responded, "but I'll soon fix that." We grinned at each other as we sipped our coffees and tossed occasional glances in their direction.

Thankfully, in just over an hour we were airborne and headed over the Indian Ocean and Great Australian Bight towards Melbourne, where we would stop briefly to refuel then cross the Tasman Sea to Wellington. It would give us just enough time to get to the venue and do sound checks before the show commenced; my hopes of much time with Ben before the gig were fading fast.

"Cara, have you got a minute?" Ed asked as he walked past my seat, indicating I should come join him further up.

"Sure." I stood and put my iPad down on the seat; I'd been reading while Meagan snoozed next to me. On the other side of the aisle, Rick and Marcus both snored gently.

"What's up?" I asked Ed, plopping into the seat next to him at the front of the small plane.

"How would you feel about doing a song with me tonight?"

"Back-up, you mean? What about Meagan? I don't want to take..."

"No, not back-up," he shook his head, "on stage with me as a duet."

I stared at him open-mouthed. "Are you kidding? I'd love to. I don't know all your songs, though, so..."

He gave a chuckle. "You know Photograph – I've heard you singing it when you're listening to your iPod."

I laughed and blushed. "Okay. You want me to play guitar as well or just sing?"

"How about both?"

I nodded. "You're doing the fancy chords though, yeah?"

He laughed and agreed. "Shall we do a quick run through now?"

I went back to fetch my guitar then returned to the front and we practised the song a few times to work out parts and harmonies. Although he'd written it a couple of years before and it featured on his second album, he hadn't yet released it as a single, though he said he was planning to do so in the near future. As it was about a long-distance relationship, the song resonated with me at that point in time and I played it on my iPod quite a lot – luckily for me, as it turned out.

\---

Arriving at the stadium was the uplifting experience I was beginning to get used to; hundreds of fans were queued up and gave us a warm welcome, calling for selfies and autographs on posters, CDs, tee shirts – you name it, they wanted us to sign it. Once inside we set up for sound checks, the guys kindly letting me go first, and in complete contrast to the bad luck of earlier in the day, the equipment worked without any hitches. I looked at my watch, groaning when I realised I hadn't yet adjusted it for New Zealand time.

Ten past five. The show started at six. I wonder where Ben is.

"Hey Cara, there's someone to see you at the ticket office," Piers told me as he came in for his sound check.

"Thanks!" Oh god; please let it be him! It must be him, surely, I don't know another soul in this country. I ran down corridors and along hallways, weaving around all the bodies going about their business and no doubt wondering why this crazy woman was in such a hurry. Once at the ticket office they directed me to the Theatre Manager's office and I stood outside the closed door to catch my breath, trembling with anticipation.

\---

I wish I could purr.

If I could, right now my purring would be so loud it would be heard in the farthest reaches of our solar system. Beings from other planets would hear it and know that Earth was a nice place to visit. They'd be friendly aliens, of course, not Sith or Klingons or – oh heck, I've just mixed Star Wars and Star Trek. Mustn't tell Ben.

I could hum, I guess, but I don't want to sound like an old refrigerator on its last legs, freezing everything you put in there because the temperature settings don't work any more, the motor humming so loud you think an aeroplane is flying directly over your house and check out the window to be sure.

I guess I'll just stay quiet then and nuzzle a little more. Bury my head closer and smell the clean, fresh, woodsy scent that wore off three weeks ago from the tee shirt I stole out of his wardrobe. I'll listen to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud under my ear, knowing that when it speeds up it's because of me. I'll keep my hands clasped firmly together, so tight that nothing and no-one could pry them apart without using the Jaws of Life or gaining my willing consent – and that's not going to happen any time soon. And every now and then I'll sigh - a small, contented sigh of pure bliss - because I am finally exactly where I've been wanting – no, needing - to be.

"Darling?"

Oh God, how I've missed that rumble, the reverberation in his chest when he speaks in a lower register. The smooth, deep, velvety voice of a jaguar hiding in a cello.

"Mmm?"

"Would you be more comfortable if we sat down?"

Would I? The question bears careful consideration. Right now we are pressed so closely together from hip to neck that I doubt you could get a sheet of paper or sliver of silk between us, and that's just the way I'm liking it, thank you very much. My arms are wrapped around his waist, his around my back. I tried to think of a sitting position that offered this much contact. "No thank you."

"Okay." He squeezed me a little and kissed my hair. I kissed the base of his throat.

I wish I could purr.

\---

After being announced the music began straight away on my new single, Like I'm Gonna Lose You. Rick had told me it was selling very well here but that really hit home when I heard thousands of people singing the words I had written along with me and saw them swaying in time to the tune. People right at the front were already dancing. The energy flowing back from the audience was magical; I felt emboldened enough by their enthusiasm to have them sing one chorus without me, my microphone held out towards them.

As applause died down I set the mic back in its stand and put my guitar on. "Good evening Wellington. I'm Cara de Luca and you guys are...just incredible. I honestly don't think I've ever had a warmer welcome and I thank you sincerely for that. As you probably know, we just arrived from Australia today and before we started this tour I was told that there is some rivalry between Australia and New Zealand. Is that correct?" The strength of the shouted response made me laugh. "Okay, I think that's a yes." I grinned as they laughed and cheered. "Well then, I'm going to sing you a few songs and let's do what we can to make tonight the best ever, and show those Aussies what it's all about." The roar from the crowd could have knocked me off my feet and I turned to look at the guys in the band, who were laughing along with me. I nodded to Rick and we launched into Begin Again then did Change Your Mind from the first album.

"Thank you so much. The next song is one I wrote recently and will be released as a single..." I hesitated, "Oh God, I don't know, I've lost track of the days." There was general amusement. "It's either today or tomorrow." I laughed along with them at my own silliness. Someone near the front of the audience yelled out "Today is Friday!" and those around him burst into laughter, as did I. "Thank you Han Solo," I low-voiced, grinning. "Anyway, It's a love song – I guess I'm kind of stuck on those at the moment, can't think why." They laughed, as I'd hoped they would – our engagement might have happened on the other side of the world, but the Internet and social media meant no news stayed local any more and we both had fans here. Sobering, I told them, "It's called Fade Into You. I hope you like it."

 

If you were the ocean and I was the sun

If the day made me heavy and gravity won

If I was the red and you were the blue

I could just fade into you

 

If you were a window and I was the rain

I'd pour myself out and wash off the pane

I'd fall like a tear so your light could shine through

Then I'd just fade into you

 

In your heart, in your head,

In your arms, in your bed, under your skin,

Till there's no way to know where you end

And where I begin

 

If I was a shadow and you were a street

The cobblestone midnight is where we first meet

Till the lights flickered out, we dance with the moon

Then I'd just fade into you

 

In your heart, in your head,

In your arms, in your bed, under your skin

Till there's no way to know where you end

And where I begin

 

I want to melt in, I want to soak through,

I only want to move when you move

I want to breathe out when you breathe in

Then I want to fade into you

 

If I was just ashes and you were the ground

And under your willow they laid me down

There'll be no trace that one was once two

After I fade into you

 

Then I just fade into you.

Then I just fade into you.

 

As applause died down we began the opening for the next song. "I think you'll know this one so I'd love you to sing along." We did Hold Back the River and once again I gave a chorus over to them to sing then followed with a bright, sassy cover of Something's Got a Hold on Me, both of which had people dancing in their seats as well as those on the ground in front of me. I was high on this audience; their energy was buoying me up till I felt I was walking among the stars.

"Thank you. You are a truly amazing audience, thank you so much." I set my guitar aside and took the mic from the stand, moving forward on stage. "I've got time for one more song and a few of my friends are going to help me out with this one, so please welcome Leon, Meagan and Amir to the stage." The three of them came out to huge applause and took up microphones; they'd sing back-up but also do a little "acting" during the song. "This is an oldie but I particularly want to sing it for you tonight."

I had thought long and hard about what song to finish with for this particular show, wanting something upbeat that would have meaning for Ben and I. Rick began on drums, Marcus kicked in with percussion, Jake took strings and my back-ups swayed and crooned as I pulled out what Ben called my sassy face and we launched into a cover of the sixties hit, My Guy.

 

Nothing you can say can tear me away from my guy,

Nothing you can do 'cause I'm stuck like glue to my guy.

I'm sticking to my guy like a stamp to a letter,

Like birds of a feather we stick together,

I'm telling you from the start I won't be torn apart from my guy.

 

Nothing you can do can make me untrue to my guy,

Nothing you can buy can make me tell a lie to my guy.

I gave my guy my word of honour to be faithful, and I'm gonna,

You'd best be believing I won't be deceiving my guy.

 

As a matter of opinion I think he's tops,

My opinion is he's the cream of the crop

As a matter of taste, to be exact, he's ideal as a matter of fact.

 

No muscle-bound man could ever take my hand from my guy.

No handsome face could ever take the place of my guy.

He may not be a movie star, but when it comes to being happy we are.

There's not a man today who can take me away from my guy.

 

Leon and Amir pretended to try and "steal" me away as I sang those lines, while I pushed them aside. When I got to the words 'he may not be a movie star' I couldn't help a grin on hearing laughter from the audience.

I walked right up to and along the front of the stage, tapping the hands of those who put theirs out for me as my back-ups crooned again.

 

Oooh, my guy

Oooh, talkin' bout my guy

 

The second time doing this verse I changed the words up a little, just for fun, giving the crowd another grin.

 

No muscle-bound man can ever take my hand from my guy.

No handsome face could ever take the place of my guy.

He really is a movie star, and when it comes to being happy we are.

There's not a man today who could take me away from my guy.

There's not a man today who could take me away from my guy.

There's not a man today who could take me away from my guy.

 

I sauntered backwards towards the band as we quietened the last two lines to a whisper then died away to silence. Thunderous applause rang in our ears as I took my bow then looked out into the crowd, wondering where he was sitting. Once I thought I would be heard, I said, "Thank you Wellington, good night," and left the stage.


	57. My Precious

What on earth had gotten into that gorgeous head of his? Wasn't he thinking straight? Or at all? He brought people with him to the gig, seriously? Okay, yes, the geeky part of me is incredibly thrilled to meet Peter Jackson and his partner Fran and the fact he's invited us to stay a few days with them after the tour finishes – in his hobbit house! – would normally render me mute with disbelief and excitement, but right now, this minute, I would give anything in the world for them to just go home and leave me alone with my fiancé.

Fiancé. The word has a nice ring to it. I giggled aloud at my own pun and Ben looked at me, quirking a brow and giving that little half smile that always, always drives me crazy. God, go home you kiwi genius and leave me to my man!

"Come on Pete, I think it's time we called it a night," Fran pulled at Peter's sleeve.

"It's only eleven," the Hobbitmaster responded, looking at his watch with a frown.

"Yes, and we've got a long drive ahead of us."

"What are you talking about Fran, it's only..." Fran gave him a small kick on the shin and sent a telling glance to both Ben and I. "Oh! Oh yes, you're right, we should go."

They told me once again how much they'd enjoyed the show and looked forward to seeing me again soon, said goodnight and finally – finally! – left.

"Thank God," I muttered.

Ben's chuckle tickled my ear. "I think Fran got the message from the look on your face, my love."

"What look?"

"The one you're giving me right now," he murmured. "The one that says I need to get you upstairs pretty damn quickly or there'll be scandalous photos in the world's press by morning." We'd been having a drink in the hotel bar but privacy was only a short lift ride away and that's where we headed, thankfully finding it otherwise unoccupied.

"Darling, I..." I began but he silenced me with a kiss so hot I felt my skeleton melt and turn to silly putty inside my skin. My knees gave way but luckily his hands at my waist kept me upright while my fingers raked through his curls. When he moaned into my mouth it sent roaring flames to awaken bits of me that had lain dormant for seven weeks – well, apart from that one Skype session...

"What were you going to say, love?" His voice was gruff and husky, his lips masterful as they devoured my neck.

Me? Say something? "Hgjmfpjgf," I managed, whimpering. The lift door opened and he picked me up and carried me to our room.

"You have the key card, sweetheart," Ben murmured.

What? Shit! Do I? "Didn't I give it to you?"

"No, love." His lips brushed mine ever so softly and I whimpered again, desperately needing so much more. Dammit, what the hell did I do with the key? "Is it in your purse?"

Purse. That's a good idea. Yes. I blinked at him, wondering where my purse could be.

He set me down on my feet gently and with a smirk on his face that had me drooling, took my purse from where it was clutched tightly in my hand, opened it and found the key card. Two seconds later he kicked the door shut behind us and pushed me up against it, reprising the kiss from the lift as I struggled to think coherently.

Oh God, he's even better at kissing than I remember, almost as if he's been practising. Maybe he's been filming love scenes? No, silly, he's been Smaug, not Christopher Tietjens, and he certainly wouldn't have been kissing Bilbo Baggins. Although, that would give the 'Johnlock' shippers something to get excited about.

When we came up for air, panting as if we'd run a marathon, he threw off his jacket and yanked at his tie as I reached around to my zip. "Fuck! It's stuck!"

"Rip it," he said, kicking his shoes to the other side of the room and tearing at his socks.

"I love this dress."

His hands held my face as he kissed me, hard, eyes smouldering as he growled in my ear, "Rip. It. Off."

Caveman Ben. Oh God. I'm done.

\---

"What do you want?"

"You."

"To eat, love." Ben had picked up the phone to dial room service.

"Oh." Still, I got a firm kiss in spite of my error. Score. "Um, I don't know – what are you having?"

"You," he grinned cheekily.

"No stealing my lines, Snortlebatch." Another lovely kiss. Oh, I am a lucky, lucky woman. "I'll have fruit and muesli please and the most humungous cup of coffee they can find."

Ed and entourage were flying to Auckland today but as our gig wasn't until tomorrow night, I'd arranged to stay the extra day here with Ben and fly up tomorrow. Auckland was our last concert of the tour; after that I would come back here until Ben had completed his Smaug duties and we would fly home together to London. He had arranged a day off today so we could spend it together and as far as I was concerned there was absolutely no need for us to leave this room; anything we needed other than each other could be delivered to our door.

I got up and pulled on a robe, opening the curtains to look at the view over the city and harbour. Arms came and wrapped around my middle as a chin rested on my head; I sighed, utterly content, as the heat from his body warmed me from top to toe.

"When are you going to make an honest man out of me, Miss de Luca?" I turned to face him but a knock at the door heralded the arrival of our breakfast before I could answer. "Don't make me wait too long," he told me with a kiss before going to let room service in. "I want you as my wife sooner rather than later."

Me too, Cumbers, me too. Trouble was, my schedule was beginning to look almost as busy as his, for the rest of this year, anyway. As we ate we discussed what kind of wedding we each wanted, relieved that we agreed on a small, intimate ceremony with family and close friends.

"Do I have to do anything special for us to be married in a Catholic church?" he asked.

"Actually, Ben, I don't want to be married in the Catholic Church." He looked rather nonplussed, so I explained. "They don't make you become a Catholic any more, though we'd have to get permission from the Bishop, but if we marry in my church I would have to promise to uphold my faith and bring our...children up as Catholics." Our children. Oh God. "And I don't want to do that."

Little miniature Bens running around underfoot...oh, Mother of Mercy. Keep it together Cara.

"Sweetheart, are you sure?"

I nodded. "I want them to decide for themselves when they're old enough to understand and whether they choose to adopt a particular belief or not, it doesn't matter. If you're happy with that, I mean...I guess you should have a say in it too," I smiled, still seeing tiny Cumbers kids in my head.

"It sounds perfect." He put down his coffee cup and came closer. "You're perfect and I love you so much." Hands began loosening the belt of my robe. "How many children would you like?"

Oh hell. "Umm, three or four?" I hazarded a guess. "But I'm open to other offers."

A wicked smile lit his face as he pulled me to him, sliding his hands inside my robe. "Well then, perhaps we should get a little more practise at what makes babies until we're ready to do it for real."

Good plan. Count me in.


	58. Tiki Tour

"How was Hobbiton?"

"Oh my God, Ben, it was amazing. I am definitely coming back as a hobbit in my next life and living there, and the behind the scenes tour Peter arranged for me was incredible. Please thank him again for me."

"You can thank him in person when you get your gorgeous self back here, love."

"I know, darling, but there is no such thing as too many thanks for the man that brought Tolkien to life for millions. He's New Zealand's answer to JK Rowling."

Ben chuckled. "I'll tell him. What else did you get up to?"

"I had a swim in some thermal hot pools in a place called Wairakei. Have you ever done that?"

"No."

"You would love it. The water temperature is between thirty-eight and forty-two degrees and it's full of silica and all kinds of other minerals – so good for you, apparently, much like when they used to take the waters at Bath, only hotter. I felt absolutely incredible afterwards."

"So like taking a hot bath then?" I heard the teasing note in his voice.

"Philistine!"

"Where are you now?"

"In Taupo. Tomorrow I'm driving through the national park with volcanoes and everything. Hang on...umm...I'm probably pronouncing these wrong, but here goes...Mounts Ruapehu, Tongariro and Ngauruhoe. That last one was Mount Doom in the movies."

"They're extinct, I presume."

"Well...no, not so much."

"Cara..."

"There hasn't been an eruption since 1996, I'm told, so I think I'm safe Cumbers." I grinned to myself when he made little grumble noises. "I'll see you some time tomorrow night. And by the way, I've got our Halloween costumes covered for this year." My grin widened when he gave a loud groan.

"Oh lord, woman, what have you done now?"

"I bought a Thranduil and a Bilbo costume...I'll let you work out which one of us is going to be the tall Elven king and which one the short hobbit with large hairy feet."

Ben's laugh sounded so lovely my heart gave a pang at not being there with him. When I'd decided to drive back to Wellington from Auckland after the tour finished so that I could see something of the beautiful New Zealand countryside I had heard so much about, I hadn't taken into account how much I'd miss him even though we'd just had two nights together. But I had travelled to the far side of the world and may never be back, so no matter how much I missed my gorgeous god of kissing, I was also enjoying the lush green countryside and incredible friendliness of the locals.

Our last show of the tour had been epic; Ed had wanted to go out with a bang and everyone was fired up to give phenomenal performances. I changed only the last song from my Wellington repertoire; instead of My Guy, Jake had joined me for a cover of Pink's Just Give Me a Reason and it got a great reception from the audience.

Ed thrilled his fans of course doing all his hits and we did Photograph together again. When we were in Australia he'd sung You Need Me, I Don't Need You as his encore song, but he swapped that in New Zealand for I See Fire, the song he'd written for Peter for The Hobbit: the Desolation of Smaug. It had been his first number one hit here and the crowd in Wellington had gone wild when he'd sung it. Ed had joined Peter, Fran, Ben and I for a while after the show and he and Peter had recounted the story of how he'd gotten involved with the film and the process of writing and recording the song in Wellington the previous year.

For this last night, however, Ed had arranged for all his opening acts to join him on stage for I See Fire; with four acoustic guitars, three sets of drums and seven voices, it gave me chills when we sang the chorus together. The audience loved it, singing along with us and basically going ballistic with their ovation afterwards; it was the best way to finish the tour I could possibly think of and I was walking on air as we left the stage.

Saying goodbye to everyone the next day was difficult; Rick, Jake and Marcus of course I would see soon back home and I hoped to keep in touch with Meagan as we'd become good friends. When I went to Ed's room he sat me down and surprised me with some news.

"I'm starting up my own label shortly Cara and I'd love you to sign with me."

"Ed...wow, I..."

"I know you've gone independent so far and I admire you for that, but I think being with a label could give you a lot of advantages and I'd love to be the one to help you on that journey. So take some time to think about it and give me a call when you're back in the UK. And if you could keep it under your hat until I announce my label officially, I'd be grateful."

"Of course, yes...no problem. Ed, thank you, that's...I'm flattered, really...I...I'll definitely think about it and be in touch."

\---

Although I'd left the township of Taupo by nine in the morning and it was only a four and a half hour drive to Wellington, I didn't reach the country's capital until almost five that night; I'd made so many stops along the way to admire and photograph the scenery that it had taken me almost twice as long to get there. I'd driven around the eastern border of Lake Taupo, the country's largest lake and more than forty times larger than the biggest lake in England, then once in Tongariro National Park - a World Heritage site - had driven the 'Volcanic Loop' road to see the three peaks I'd told Ben about. After that my route had taken me past ski resorts with beautiful alpine flora and unusual birdlife and through a forest of magnificent beech and cedar. The rolling, undulating route reminded me of the Lake District at home, but the forests seemed to have an ancient and ethereal beauty all their own. I loved it and sincerely hoped I would be able to visit here again one day.

Hitting peak hour traffic as I reached the outskirts of Wellington reminded me why I didn't like driving in London, but with the aid of the navigation system I found my way to the hotel easily enough. I'd return the rental car the following day, so parked in the underground garage and headed with my suitcase and guitar up to the tenth floor. Ben was still at the studio so I had time to shower and change before he arrived.

\---

"I missed you." Ben's arms squeezed me as I sat happily ensconced on his lap; he looked adorable wearing my album cover t-shirt with form-fitting jeans and his favourite pair of Converse sneakers.

"I didn't miss you at all," I told him, and watched him frown. "I certainly didn't miss doing this," I ran my fingers through his already dishevelled curls, tugging gently and catching my breath when he closed his eyes and gave a soft moan. "Or this." My other hand skimmed the few-days-old gingery growth on his chin. "I most definitely didn't miss doing this," I pressed my lips softly to the laughter lines beside his eyes, now gazing deeply into mine. "Nor the little sound you make when I do this," I claimed, grazing gently down one side of his neck as he made a deep, low growl in his throat. "And," I placed brief kisses on his lips to punctuate my next sentence, "not these," kiss, "beautiful," kiss, "wonderful," kiss, "clever, clever," kiss, "lips."

Suddenly I was pushed down on to the couch and he was on top of me, said lips possessive and demanding, my head swirling with sensation and empty of all thought save the feel and taste of him. My toes curled as my hands ran under his shirt, fingertips brushing over the hard muscle of his back and flat plane of his stomach. We were both panting heavily when his head lifted.

"I love you in my tee," I told him breathlessly, tugging at its hem. "But I'd love you more out of it."

He yanked it over his head and tossed it aside in a matter of milliseconds. "Your turn," he told me gruffly, pulling my blouse out from my own jeans; I lifted my arms and he passed it over my head and flung it somewhere, his breath drawing in a hiss when he saw what I wore underneath. "You've been shopping."

I had been; I'd found a store with the prettiest, most feminine lingerie I had seen in a while and had gone a little crazy. The bra I wore now was baby pink with tiny black polka dots, black lace trim and tiny black bows – one of my favourites. "I have," I agreed. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," he replied, running his hands all over it and making me squirm, "but I'd love it even more off." My breath caught at the sight of his hooded lids as he lifted me and with one flick of nimble fingers, released the clasp then grasped the front and pulled it away from my body. "Much, much better," he said, eyes taking a leisurely perusal before his head lowered and my whole body arched up to meet him, melting with desire.


	59. What's In A Date

The first thing I noticed about being back in the UK was how much I hadn't missed the paparazzi. Sure, I'd done a few radio and TV interviews in Australia and there were photographers around at times, but they didn't have the same stalker mentality as here and it had been like a breath of fresh air. Even when Ben and I were together in New Zealand, although fans had approached us occasionally, the laid-back Kiwis had left us to ourselves most of the time - something we had both really appreciated.

The paps had somehow got wind of our arrival at Heathrow and were there to dog our steps as we carried our luggage towards the waiting car. Already tired from the long flight, their insistent questioning and constant snapping were extremely trying and Ben could see I was getting upset. He let go the hand he'd been holding and pulled me in close to his side, his arm around my waist and his warm strength to steady me. "Not much longer, darling," he whispered close to my ear as more shutters clicked. When we finally reached the sanctuary of the town car I drew a deep breath, counting to ten before letting it out again.

"I sure as hell didn't miss those vultures," I muttered, rubbing eyes that had already been sore and gritty from travel before the camera flashes had irritated them.

"I'm sorry, love." Ben gently kissed my eyelids before I put my glasses back on and gave him a weak smile. "Not much of a welcome home is it?"

"It probably wouldn't seem so bad if I weren't so tired. I'm sure I'll look terribly cranky in most of those shots."

He chuckled before kissing me again, on the lips this time. "You're still beautiful even when you're cranky."

"Smooth, Cumbers." He, as always, looked gorgeous. His hair had gotten longer while we were away and although he'd had it cut at the back and sides, he'd indulged me and left plenty of curls on top, knowing how much I adored them. In jeans, denim shirt and knitted cardigan, he looked relaxed and casual and I couldn't resist pulling his head down and returning his kiss, with interest.

"You know, there is one question the paps keep asking that we do need to sort out," he said, brushing a lock of hair off my face and giving me a sweet smile.

"I know. Let's compare schedules when we get home." Home. It sounded strange saying that. I was referring to Ben's flat, but on the plane he'd asked me how I felt about moving in with him now rather than waiting until the wedding and I'd said yes, so as of today it was our flat – our home.

As if he could read my thoughts, Ben murmured, "It's nice to hear you call it that."

"You might regret asking me," I warned him with a grin, "I'm used to having complete control over the TV remote and sometimes I compose songs in the wee small hours."

"You also leave your unmentionables drying over the bath tub but I'm not going to complain about that at all," he grinned back, with a wink thrown in for good measure, and I couldn't help laughing. "As for the TV remote, I guess we can negotiate."

"There's not much I watch anyway; my favourite show only has three ninety-minute episodes every two years." He blushed, the darling; he actually blushed. "You're so adorable," I whispered into his ear, "Can I keep you?" The smouldering look he gave me made me wish we were home already.

\---

"How's your June looking?"

We were sitting at the dining table, laptops open on schedules, trying to find a two or three week parcel of time to hold a wedding and have a honeymoon.

"Manchester on the eighth, Donnington on the tenth, promotion for the new album most of that month and Macclesfield on the twenty-first," I told him. Since winning the Brit Award I'd been invited to sing at a lot more music festivals, which of course took place during the summer months. Planning a summer wedding was not going to be easy. We moved on to July. "Henley on the tenth, the summertime concert on the thirteenth and Bob's twenty year celebration is on the twenty-second. Aren't you going to the US in July?"

"End of June, early July. Should be finished by the middle of the month. I've got a couple of weeks then." He looked up at me, "But you can't miss Bob's party."

"No." Bob would be celebrating having owned and run his pub for twenty years and the guys and I were playing a special show for him. "Sorry, love."

"That's okay, we'll find something. August I've got the voice work for Penguins and a couple of BBC documentaries – how's that looking for you?"

"Hmm, Cambridge on the second, Shrewsbury on the twenty-third, Kent is the thirtieth. And you're filming The Hollow Crown September and October, so that's out. Shit!"

"Darling..."

"Maybe we should sneak off to Gretna Green one weekend and just not have a honeymoon?" I said it jokingly, but Ben was quite serious in his reply.

"I am not carting you off for a hole-in-the-wall wedding; you are going to wear a beautiful dress and be surrounded by your family." Secretly pleased by his insistence, I was scouring my calendar again when he made a suggestion. "Darling, we could...except I don't know if there's enough time, but..." I looked up from my computer, waiting for him to go on. "I'm fairly free practically all of May; there's just the Hay Festival on the thirty-first..."

"I could ask Rick to put back the album release for a couple of weeks; I've got more time free in July for promotion anyway..."

"If we get married somewhere between the fourteenth and the twenty-second, that gives three or four weeks to plan and a week or two for a honeymoon." It was looking hopeful but I thought of the huge number of things that went into planning a wedding, even a simple one. "And sweetheart?" Ben leaned over to take my hand, raising it to his lips. "Please will you allow me to pay for a wedding planner to help you?"

"A wedding planner? Really?" The idea had merit; I would still be making the important decisions but someone else would do all the small things and time-consuming legwork. It would certainly help with the short timeframe we had. "I...think I could see that working," I smiled. "But you don't have to pay for it..."

"I'd like to." He looked very earnest and my heartstrings tugged. "It would give me great pleasure to do that for you." He kissed each fingertip and then my palm and I could only nod as my insides melted completely. Dammit, Cumbers! "Thank you darling. Now, I need you to tell me where you'd like to go for a honeymoon. Or would you like me to surprise you?"

The last rays of the setting sun chose that moment to pierce the gathering gloom, striking his face and turning his eyes the colour of crystal clear, azure waters in a place where we had once enjoyed a private paradise. "Zakynthos," I told him, without a second's hesitation.

"Perfect," he said.

\---

Jet lag was catching up with me the next day but I dragged my time-confused body around to my grandparents' place. I'd missed them so much while I was away and now I had plenty to tell them. Their welcome was as enthusiastic and warm as I could wish for and after I'd been practically smothered by nonna, she made coffee and we sat down with a plate of freshly baked pastries still warm from the oven. There was a little news of the tour to tell them, although we had kept in touch via phone and emails, so we talked about that for a while, then I got around to the main headlines.

"Ben and I have set a wedding date – well, a range of dates; that will get finalised shortly. We're getting married around the middle of May."

"May? That's next month!" Nonna sounded horrified.

"I know it's soon, nonna, but I'm going to have a wedding planner to help me organise, though I'll still need your advice, of course." The last thing I wanted was for her to feel left out. "And I'm hoping you'll agree to make our wedding cake?"

She put her hand to her chest and I saw tears glistening. "Cara, caro figlio, of course, of course. Sarebbe un piacere per me." (It would be my pleasure.)

"Thank you." I kissed her cheek. "And nonno? Would you do me the honour of walking me down the aisle?" When I saw him with tears as well it was impossible to keep my own at bay, and we all ended up sniffling as they hugged me again. Once we'd settled back, tissues on the table, I took a deep breath for the next piece of news I had to impart. "I need to tell you two more things. I know that you may not approve of them, but they are my decisions and I hope you can accept that." Oh boy. Okay, here we go. "Firstly, I have moved in with Ben and secondly, I do not wish to be married in the Church." I thought they'd probably be more okay with my first proclamation; it was the second that was the deal breaker.

There was complete silence. I looked down at the table, too nervous to see their faces as I let them absorb what I'd told them.

"You have considered this very carefully, mia nipote, not being married in your faith?" (My granddaughter)

"Si, nonno." It was time to look up and meet their eyes. "I want my children – our children – to choose their own faith when they are ready. I'm not saying the Catholic faith is bad, or wrong, but...there is so much more out there to consider and I want them to have freedom of thought, and of choice."

I saw them exchange a glance. "And Benedict...has he no faith of his own?"

It was unacceptable that they should think Ben was the bad guy here. "He doesn't, exactly," I shook my head, "though it's not as simple as that. But this is not his doing, nonno - this is my decision. In fact, Ben was taken by surprise when I told him the same thing."

Nonno chewed on another pastry; nonna blew her nose, both lost in thought. I sat out the silence, though my knees began to jiggle up and down under the table.

"Very well, piccolo. It is your life – you must live it as you see fit."

In my relief I let out a rush of breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding, and hugged them both again. "Grazie, grazie. Ti amo."

\---

"What will you do with your flat?" Maria asked when I called her later in the day.

"I was thinking of asking Marco if he would like to sub-let it from me." The lease on his flat was up soon and he'd been having trouble finding somewhere he could afford, even thinking about moving back in with our grandparents. It would be handy for working in the shop, but I was hoping he'd jump at the chance for my little place, which would be a neat solution for all of us.

"That's a great idea, I think he'd like that. Do you need a hand with moving all your stuff?"

"Thanks, but I've decided to hire a mover. You don't need a new bed do you? We don't need mine and it's only a year old."

"Ours is getting on a bit and the mattress is a little lumpy."

"If you don't take it, I'll send it off to the Salvos."

"Well, in that case I'll make an executive decision and say yes." We both laughed. "Just let us know when you want it collected. What about wedding planning? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. I'm meeting with the wedding planner tomorrow, though – do you want to come along? You might think of things I wouldn't, having been through it yourself."

"Count me in."

"And bring that adorable nephew of mine; it's been far too long since I had baby cuddles."

"Sounds like you're getting married not a moment too soon if you've got babies on your mind."

"Oh, very funny!" I wished she were in the room so I could throw a cushion at her face. Her laughter was the last thing I heard before she said goodbye and hung up.

Dammit, now I'm picturing little Bens again!


	60. Never a Good Sign

"I'm sorry, Ben, I didn't know your mum would bring it up."

"You should have told me yourself."

"Yes. I'm sorry." Shit.

We'd had dinner with Tim and Wanda and as usual she and I had chatted while we worked in the kitchen. I'd mentioned in passing that some of the rooms in Ben's flat – oops, our flat – were a little austere, and unfortunately she had passed on that information while we were eating.

Actually, she'd said, "I hope you're going to let Cara redecorate your flat to suit her own taste, darling, and get rid of some of that man stuff."

The hurt look on Ben's face had made my heart plummet and I cursed myself for having made the comment in the first place. He'd been quieter than usual for the rest of the evening and through most of the drive home, until I couldn't take it any more and had raised the topic.

"Why am I just hearing about this now? Have you hated it all the time we've known each other?"

"I don't hate it, it's just that some of the rooms are a little...masculine, is all. And you're just hearing about it now – and again, I apologise for the manner in which you heard it – because it was your home and the décor was nothing to do with me." I glanced at his face, still closed off. "I'm sorry Ben, I just made a comment in passing, I wasn't complaining...but I shouldn't have said anything to your mum without saying it to you first." God, I was apologising so much I was beginning to sound like Tom. He turned into the driveway, opened the garage door and drove in, turning off the ignition. We sat there in silence for a minute. Should I apologise again? "Darling, I'm..."

"You're sorry; I know."

Okay then, well, as long as that's clear.

Tracy Chapman started singing in my head and I switched her off determinedly as Ben got out of the car and I waited for him to open my door. I remembered the first time I had gotten out without waiting and he'd told me in no uncertain terms that a gentleman always opens a door for a lady – car or otherwise - and that I had to wait every time. And he always did, even when we were fighting or it was pelting with rain and he stood there getting drenched. He still stood up every time I approached or left a table, still took my hand to help me up or over an obstacle, still walked on the outside of the footpath to shelter me from...well, whatever it was from. Traffic? Noise? Getting splattered from a car going through a puddle? I don't know and I don't care; it's enough that he does it, and it makes me feel cherished, every single time.

He held out his hand now to help me out of the car and instead of letting it go once I was up, I brought it to my lips and kissed it, looking into his eyes in the gloom of the dimly lit space. "Am I forgiven yet?" I asked softly, hopefully, holding my breath.

Ben sighed, pulling me towards him. "Yes. Just tell me first next time..."

"I will, darling, I promise."

His nose bumped gently against mine. "This is your home now too; I want you to be happy here."

"I am happy, love. I'm sorry about..."

"Hush woman, you're starting to sound like Tom and it's a bit off-putting when I want to kiss you."

His lips meeting mine swallowed my giggle, and I very quickly forgot all about Tom and Tracy and puddles and...mffphmfph.

\---

"How's all the wedding plans going then? Jake said you've set a date." Meagan and I were having coffee, the first time we'd managed to get together since the tour.

"We have. It's going well; Jessica, our wedding planner, is terrific. The main hitch at the moment seems to be a venue – we're trying to find somewhere where we can have some privacy and not have it turn into a media feeding frenzy."

"Oh god yeah, I can just imagine it."

Should I ask? I'm dying to ask...would she mind? Oh heck. "Speaking of Jake..." I began tentatively, and could tell by the look on her face that she knew where this was headed. "You two seem to...get on really well." She nodded, fiddling with the paper napkin. "Are you...just friends, or...?" She'd had a girlfriend at the beginning of the tour, but I hadn't heard her mentioned much in the latter couple of weeks. "I mean, tell me to mind my own business if you like, but if you need someone to talk to..."

"Oh jeez, it's right complicated, yeah?" I tried to look sympathetic and let her continue. "I haven't...felt this way...for a man, I mean...for a long time. It's all a bit...confusing."

God, I hear you; men are confusing and complicated even when you're straight.

"Jake's a good guy, Meg. Does he...know about Amy?"

She shook her head, slowly. Strawberry blonde curls fell over her face and she brushed them back impatiently. "Amy and I...she moved out, she...she knew something had happened when we were in Australia, you know?"

"I'm sorry." I gave her arm a brief squeeze. "For what it's worth, I've known Jake a long time and I've never seem him quite like this before. It's just...well...he was hurt recently." I sighed. "I hurt him recently." She gave me a searching look. "I mean, we've never...been involved, but he...he wanted to and I didn't, so..." God, men! "So, I think what I'm trying to say is...I wouldn't want to see him hurt again, and I don't want to see you hurt either, so please, don't rush into anything you're not sure of. Take your time to know what you really want – what you both really want – before you...commit to anything. And now, tell me to mind my own freaking business and shut the hell up!"

"Nah, you're good. Thanks for telling me. I'm trying to, you know, just take it one day at a time, yeah?"

"Well, if I can help in any way, just let me know. I'm happy to come around any time with ice cream, alcohol, chocolate, shotgun..."

We both cracked up then, thankfully, changed the topic.

\---

When your phone shrills at four in the morning you know instinctively it's not going to be good news, so my heart was already pounding in trepidation when caller ID told me it was Marco calling.

"Marco, what's wrong?" Ben turned on the bedside lamp and looked at me, running his hand over his face.

"Nonno has been taken to Portland hospital, we think he's had a heart attack."

"Oh God." Cold tentacles of fear clutched at my heart. "Is he all right?"

"He didn't lose consciousness, which I think is a good sign; other than that, I don't know."

I began gathering clothes. "How's nonna?"

"I'm not sure. Tony's with her."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." I rang off, tossing my phone on the bed as I dressed and telling Ben what little I knew as he, too, pulled on jeans and a shirt. We splashed water on our faces, brushed teeth and hair, grabbed shoes and wallets and left the flat within ten minutes of the call. Driving through the streets of London at this hour was kind of eerie but my mind was racing and I was doing my damnedest to stop the tentacles spreading. I saw Ben glancing at me then his left hand took mine and gave it a squeeze. He didn't offer platitudes or empty promises; just let me know he was there for me. I squeezed back.

Arriving at the emergency department, we found Marco, Tony and Nonna sitting in the waiting room; they stood when they saw us arrive and I went immediately into nonna's arms, hugging her fiercely.

"How is he? Have you heard anything?"

"Not yet, cara mia, we wait for the doctors."

"What happened? Had he been unwell?"

Tony explained. "They got a phone call from a hospital in Rome to say papa...passed away. About an hour later nonno began making strange noises and clutching at his chest; nonna called the ambulance and then me."

"Oh nonna, I'm so sorry." I embraced her again, knowing she must be in a great deal of pain with her son dead and her husband ill. I wasn't sure how to feel about the news of my father. Hugging my brothers again, we all sat down to wait. And wait. I held tightly to Ben's hand, fervently hoping no news was good news, and waited some more. Within the next hour two uncles and three cousins turned up; we told them what had happened and they joined us on the hard chairs, watching the clock and waiting for news.

Every second seemed to last a lifetime.


	61. The Waiting Game

Seventy-four hours. Four thousand four hundred minutes. Two hundred and sixty-six thousand seconds. That's how long it's been since nonno was brought to the hospital, and how long we have been waiting for him to recover. He had suffered a second, more serious, attack shortly after arrival and while the doctors had been able to restart his heart, he had yet to recover consciousness. We were taking it in turns to sit by his bedside, never leaving him alone for even one of those two hundred and sixty-six thousand seconds, lest he should wake and find no one he loved there with him.

Right now it's my turn; I've been here for ninety-five minutes, holding his hand and talking to him about all manner of things. I'd brought my Yankees baseball cap and put it on his head for a while, talking about the games we used to watch together and how the team were doing this season. I brought him up to date on how wedding preparations were going and sang him a little of a song I had half composed before he ended up here. I reminisced about when he had given me my first guitar and taught me how to play, and in those five thousand seven hundred seconds he had given no clue that he'd heard me – no flicker of his eyes or flutter of movement in the fingers I held so hopefully.

"So you need to wake up soon, nonno. Nonna needs you...I need you; we have a date for you to walk me down the aisle, remember? You're going to wear a fine suit with a new tie and you'll look so handsome, you'll turn nonna's head and she'll fall in love with you all over again. I know you're sad about..." I couldn't bring myself to say the words 'my father' so I used his name instead. "About Niccolo, but nonna is sad too and she needs you; she has all of us, but she needs you. Won't you wake up for her? Please."

Hearing the swish of the door, I turned my head to find my uncle Tito arriving. "Ciao, Cara."

"Ciao, zio." We hugged and I reported no change as he settled himself in the chair I had been occupying. I took the cap off nonno and sat it beside him, asking him to keep it safe for me, kissed him goodbye then made my way out of the hospital, turning my phone back on as I exited the building. It rang two minutes later.

"He's still the same," I told Tony without him having to ask.

"Okay," he sighed. "Cara...papa arrives this afternoon." Our father's body was being sent here from Italy so he could be buried in the family plot. I knew that Tony and some of my uncles and aunts would be there to meet the flight and take his casket to the funeral home. We were delaying holding a service in the hopes that nonno would recover and be able to attend. "I just thought you should know."

I nodded before realising the futility of it. "All right. Thanks." I had no idea what else to say.

"I think Sophia and Al are taking nonna to the funeral home tonight to see him, then to the hospital to visit nonno."

About to nod again, I remembered in time and made a grunt-like noise instead. Tony knew I wouldn't be making that visit – in fact, there'd been times in the past few days when I'd pondered whether or not I would even attend the funeral. Although Dr Thompson, Head Cardiothoracic Surgeon, had said nonno's heart had been weak for a while and his attack could have happened at any time, I was harbouring resentment against my father for causing it; I churlishly considered it his final act of selfishness, to die and trigger his own father's heart attack. It might be unreasonable, but grief and pain rarely listen to reason, I'd discovered.

Soft pips sounding told me another calling was coming in, so I bid my brother farewell and answered it.

"Darling, how was your visit? How's nonno?"

My heart lifted slightly hearing Ben's voice. "He's exactly the same."

"I'm sorry, love." Suddenly I longed for his arms around me and to hear his strong heart beating reassuringly beneath my ear. "How are you?"

"I...I'm..." I'm lost. I'm drifting in limbo. I'm scared. "Ben, I..."

"I can be there in ten minutes on the bike," he interrupted softly. "We can ride anywhere you like, just get away from everything for a short time."

Oh God yes. "Please."

"Where are you now?"

"Almost at the Tube station," I replied, looking around me in surprise, as I hadn't been paying any attention where I was going. "There's a coffee shop right here."

"Wait in the shop, sweetheart, I'll be there soon."

"Okay." A thought occurred to me. "Ben?"

"Yes darling?"

"I'm wearing a skirt."

"Okay, I'll sort it." Is it any wonder I love him?

I wandered into the coffee shop, ordered a small double-shot cappuccino and sat at a table near the window. Trying to clear my head of depressing thoughts, I imagined I could feel the caffeine work its way through my blood vessels, pumping artificial energy and enthusiasm into my veins; maybe I should have ordered a large. My phone rang again - it was Jessica, wanting to meet to confer on something to do with the wedding. I barely listened and put her off until tomorrow, unable to cope just then with organising and decision-making. My brain and my heart needed a respite from reality, which is exactly what Ben offered when I saw his bike pull up outside. He handed me jeans, so I slipped them on under my skirt then wiggled that off and gave it to him as I put on the leather jacket he'd also brought.

He removed his helmet briefly to give me a kiss and ask, "Anywhere in particular you'd like to go, love?"

"No," I answered, putting my own helmet on and climbing up behind him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist, "Just go."

So he did, and I tucked my head against his shoulders, closed my eyes and gave myself up to sensation - the throaty roar and vibration of the engine, the wind whistling past, the warmth and solid strength of the body I was clinging to.

\---

The next night a knock at the door interrupted our dinner and Ben got up to answer it, coming back with Tony trailing behind him. With just one look at his face I knew it wasn't good news and laid down my cutlery, pushing my plate away and taking a quick sip from my glass of water. He sat heavily in the chair Ben indicated and I held my breath, tears gathering behind my eyes as I expected the worst.

"Dr Thompson spoke to nonna today about nonno's condition," he began.

I let out my breath. "Oh God Tony, I thought you were going to say..."

"No," he shook his head, "though it's not much better." He ran his hand through his hair and sipped from the glass Ben put in front of him. Whiskey, it looked like. "The doctors don't think he'll ever come out of the coma." I gasped and gripped the hand Ben held out to me, his other going to rest on my shoulder. "They can't say with absolute certainty but the indicators are there: his age, the state of his heart before the coronary, his lack of response to pain stimuli and absence of brain activity. He's also very weak and it's quite likely he'll have another heart attack, which he...he wouldn't..."

Rising and taking a step towards him as he too got up from his chair, we put our arms around each other, weeping together for the man who was so much more to us than just a grandfather.

"Is nonna all right?" I wiped my face with my hands when my tears finally subsided. A handkerchief appeared in front of me and I sent Ben a grateful look as he put an arm about my waist and hugged me to his side. "This on top of...the other one."

"She seemed pretty stoic at the time...you know what she's like." I did know. My grandmother was a strong woman who always thought of others before herself, so it wasn't difficult to imagine her worrying about how all her children and grandchildren were coping while putting her own feelings on hold.

"I'll go see her tomorrow," I told him.

He nodded then looked at his watch. "I'd better go," he said, "Maria will be expecting me. You'll be all right, sis?"

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "Ben takes good care of me." Tony kissed my cheek, shook Ben's hand and left.

"Darling, I'm so sorry." Ben's arms went around me as tears began to fall again. I closed my eyes and clung to him, soaking his shirt within seconds. "What can I do?"

"Just hold me," I sobbed, "and don't let go."

"I won't let you go, love," he murmured into my hair. "I promise; I'll never let you go."

\---

Three nights later my grandfather's heart, weak and worn out, finally gave up and he passed away quietly in his sleep. I asked Ben to postpone our wedding and prepared for a double funeral instead.


	62. Ave

As the service began the priests entered to the hymn 'Praise God, from Whom All Blessings Flow'.

"Réquiem ætérnam dona eis, Dómine; et lux perpétua lúceat eis." (Eternal rest give to them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them).

The biers were placed in the middle, near the Sanctuary, with nonno's and my father's feet facing towards the altar.

My Uncle Dominic stood to give the first reading, Isaiah from the Old Testament. "Truly, God is my salvation. I trust, I shall not fear, for the Lord is my strength, my song, He became my savior..." I didn't listen to the rest, too intent on watching nonna, worried about her; I couldn't possibly fathom how terrible it must be to lay to rest a husband and son together. Imagining losing Ben in such a way filled me with terror; I felt as if a huge chasm opened in my heart and I stood at the precipice, balancing unsteadily as I came ever closer to falling into the depths.

Lector: The word of the Lord.

All: Thanks be to God.

We all joined Tony in the psalm of response, 'The Lord is my Shepherd,' after which Uncle Salvatore gave the second reading from the New Testament, St Paul to the Romans. "When we were baptised in Christ Jesus, we were baptised in his death; in other words, when we were baptised we went into the tomb with him and joined him in death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the Father's glory, we too might live a new life..." Again I switched off, glancing around the church at all the friends and family who had come to pay their last respects to my father and grandfather.

Lector: The word of the Lord.

All: Thanks be to God.

Joseph, a cousin who was only one day older than me, was next. His gospel reading was from Mark; I fidgeted a little and Ben gave a gentle squeeze to the hand he was holding.

Priest: The Gospel of the Lord.

All: Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ

Uncle Tito led us in the Lord's Prayer and then it would usually be time for the words of remembrance but I had requested a slight change. Nonna had asked me to sing nonno's favourite hymn and I knew if I left it any longer I would be an emotional wreck and unable to sing a note.

Ben gave me a supportive smile as I put my order of service booklet down and moved to the front; the choir gathered behind me, their purple robes pristine and regal. Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes and willed myself to stay calm; my hands trembled as I switched on the microphone and waited while the introductory music began.

 

Ave Maria, gratia plena.

Maria, gratia plena

Maria, gratia plena

Ave, ave dominus,

Dominus tecum.

Benedicta tu in mulieribus,

Et benedictus

Et benedictus fructus ventris, 

Ventris tui, Jesus.

Ave Maria.

 

Ave Maria, Mater Dei, 

Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, 

Ora, ora pro nobis; 

Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, 

Nunc et in hora mortis, 

In hora mortis nostrae. 

In hora, mortis, mortis nostrae, 

In hora mortis nostrae. 

Ave Maria

 

"Darling, that was beautiful, your grandfather would have loved it," Ben whispered to me when I returned to my seat. I simply nodded in response and returned his brief kiss, still tamping down the emotions swirling around inside my chest. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold them in for much longer, aware that one of the worst parts of the service, for me, was about to begin.

Nonno came to Britain with his mother and two sisters in 1947; he had lost his father and two older brothers in the War, so was already the man of the house at only 15. His mother found work as a seamstress and he began an apprenticeship with a local jeweller, starting with cleaning and polishing before learning how to repair watches and appraise jewellery then finally acquiring the skills to design and create unique handmade pieces. He met my grandmother at a dance and wooed her for two years before proposing, living with her parents while they worked hard and saved to establish their own business. They raised eight children and had thirty-two grandchildren and forty-one great-grandchildren. All of those who spoke of him mentioned his sense of humour and work ethic, his honour, his love for family, his wisdom and kindness. There were old friends, professional colleagues and people from the local community as well as family members, and as each one told of how nonno had touched their lives, the tears rolled down my face and I barely stifled my sobs. Ben's arm came around my shoulders and I cried into his chest, quickly soaking the tissues I'd brought before he once again gave me a handkerchief.

There were also people to speak on behalf of my father; his siblings talked of their childhood and early adulthood and spoke of his love for my mother. When they mentioned his recent attempt to re-establish contact with his family I bit my tongue until I could taste blood.

The priest began the rite of commendation, saying prayers of absolution over the bodies before the coffins were sprinkled with holy water and incensed. Twelve male members of my family, including my brothers Tony and Marco, went forward to act as pallbearers, lifting the coffins as the choir sang 'Amazing Grace' and we all stood as my father and his father were carried out to the waiting hearses.

"Cara, il mio bambino, cantava come un angelo." Nonna's words to me brought tears to my eyes again and I held her tight as she hugged me, kissing my cheeks and thanking me for singing so beautifully. (Cara, my child, you sang like an angel.)

"Qualsiasi cosa per te e il nonno, nonna. Ti amo." (Anything for you and grandfather)

"Ti amo, cara mia."

Rain fell softly as we journeyed to the graveside and my large extended family gathered to say a last goodbye. We resembled a murder of crows, all standing around dressed head to toe in black. While the priest intoned a brief blessing and farewell, I clung to Ben's hand and sheltered under the umbrella he held over our heads.

"May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace."

I became aware of the tears on my face only when Ben gently and tenderly wiped them away and I leaned in close, needing his warmth and strength more than I ever had before.

Riposa in pace, nonno.


	63. Rainy Days and Mondays

Today had been meant to be our wedding day.

Rather than being up early from excitement and anticipation, I was up because once again sleep eluded me and lying in bed wishing for oblivion to overtake me was futile. Instead I drank tea and composed a new song, occasionally glancing through darkened windows at the maelstrom beyond. For the past week the weather had been in sympathy with my emotions; dark clouds roiled around the sky, thunder rumbled in increasingly threatening tones and jagged slashes of lightning ripped the air apart. Raindrops falling down the windowpane had raced in unknowing competition with the tears falling down my face, dripping off chin or sill to pool in soggy puddles on garden bed or damp clothes.

 

Talking to myself and feeling old

Sometimes I'd like to quit

Nothing ever seems to fit

Hanging around

Nothing to do but frown

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

 

I needed to break out of my slump though, and soon. The new album had been released yesterday and in two days' time Rick and I would hit the road for a series of radio interviews and promotional appearances; I also had some festival gigs coming up, necessitating rehearsal time. 

 

What I've got they used to call the blues

Nothing is really wrong

Feeling like I don't belong

Walking around

Some kind of lonely clown

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

 

Meanwhile Ben was preparing for reading Letters Live at Hay and his role in Black Mass, and would shortly be heading to Massachusetts. Life goes on, Cara. He had been my salvation since nonno passed - unceasingly patient and understanding, always there when I needed him, never pushing for more than I was capable of giving.

 

Funny but it seems I always wind up here with you

Nice to know somebody loves me

Funny but it seems that it's the only thing to do

Run and find the one who loves me.

 

But now, I knew, I needed to re-join the world, to shake off my melancholy and find my joie de vivre again. This grieving felt eerily similar yet entirely different to what I had gone through when my mother left so I knew I was strong enough to weather it, but that didn't make it any easier to bear; quite the opposite.

 

What I feel has come and gone before

No need to talk it out

We know what it's all about

Hanging around

Nothing to do but frown

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

 

Wearily, I set down my guitar, put away my music notebook and took my cup and saucer to the kitchen. Turning off the lamp, I made my way back to the bedroom and climbed into bed, turning on my side to allow my eyes to run over the sleeping form beside me. He looked so beautiful asleep; he lay on his side too, one arm curled under the pillow while the other rested on his hip, fingers curled into the sheet that covered his lower half. Curls fell over his forehead in a way he never permitted when awake – the only exception being his longer Sherlock hair, which he hated. His tubercle – that perfect double curve of upper lip said to resemble the bow of the Roman god of erotic love – made me catch my breath, my fingers longing to reach out and trace their curves. I settled instead for pressing my own lips to them, as lightly as a butterfly, then snuggled as close to him as I dared without waking him, closed my eyes and finally drifted towards sleep.

\---

"You are such a kook."

I cast a look at Ben sitting beside me at the table. Amazingly after all the storms, midday sun streamed in through the tall windows on the wall opposite us, giving the room a bright glow and filling it with summertime warmth. "What?" I asked around my lunch.

"I don't know a single other person who eats Marmite and lettuce sandwiches," was his reply, bright eyes crinkling and the edges of his mouth lifting in a smile as I swallowed my food.

"You've been hanging out with the wrong crowd, clearly, Cumbers," I told him, feeling my own mouth twitch. "It's just as well I came along to rescue you."

He immediately leaned toward me, claiming my mouth with his before I could take another bite. Luckily my other hand was free and could rake through his curls then cup the back of his neck to prolong the pleasure of warm lips and tongue. "I thought I rescued you," he said once we both had breath back.

"That's what I let you believe," I proclaimed. "Didn't want to bruise your fragile male ego." His deep, throaty crack of laughter finished the job of pulling my lips into a smile and I suffered a stab of regret at how strange it felt.

"I've missed this," he murmured, his forefinger tracing my smile gently. "It's so nice to see it back." There was concern on his face and in his eyes, as well as the kindness and understanding that had gotten me through the blackest days of my life.

"It's nice to have it back," I sighed, dropping my head onto his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his neck when he pulled his chair closer and wrapped long arms around me. "Thank you."

Arms tightened and his voice deepened, as it always did with strong emotions. "You're welcome." Giving another small sigh, I put my uneaten sandwich on his plate and snuggled deeper into his embrace. "Are you all right...you know...today?" My hand played idly with the top button of his shirt and the tufts of soft hair that peeped above as I nodded.

Come on Cara, cheering up, remember?

"Yes, though the offer of running off to Gretna Green is still on the table," I told him, leaning my head back a little to smile at him. "They still do weddings at the old Blacksmith Shop, you know."

Relief and happiness shone from his eyes. "You've been doing some research then?" he teased, and this time I didn't resist running my fingers over his Cupid's bow.

"No harm in being prepared," I quipped, then leaned forward and kissed him, trying to put into it all the gratefulness, love and happiness I felt for him being in my life.

\---

"Good morning Guildford. I'm Cara de Luca and you're listening to Eagle Radio, 96.4 FM."

Once some adverts had played, the DJ introduced the segment. "You're tuned into the Peter Gordon breakfast show and with me in the studio this morning is Cara de Luca, whose second album, Lost in Love, was released last Friday. Tell us a little about the songs, if you would."

"I think the original songs on this album are more organic. On New Beginnings there were songs I had written about other people's experiences, whereas the new ones were completely inspired by what's been happening in my own life."

"They're predominantly love songs and of course most of our listeners are probably aware that you recently became engaged. Is your relationship with Benedict the focus of your songs or are there previous relationships that you've written about also?"

"They were all composed in the last six or seven months, so yes, the love songs were written with Ben in mind, as were two songs from that first album as well."

"The style of your music is a little different from your first album. Was that a conscious choice, to move more to a pop sound?"

"No, it wasn't. I don't set out to write to a particular genre of music, the melody is something that just grows from the lyrics. There is a more poppy sound on here as well as a little folk and jazz, so I hope people will like the songs for themselves, that hopefully they'll resonant with others as they do with me."

"The song we're going to play for our listeners this morning is Like I'm Gonna Lose You. Can you tell us what led you to write this one?"

"Actually, Peter, as strange as it may seem, the idea for this one came to me after I had a nightmare. I got up and jotted the lyrics down, then worked on the tune and the whole song was finished in less than two hours."

"Well thanks for coming and talking to us this morning."

"It's my pleasure, thank you for having me."

"You're listening to Eagle Radio and coming right up is Like I'm Gonna Lose You by Cara de Luca."

The rest of the day ran in a similar pattern, with similar questions being asked as Rick and I made our way south-west of London through Surrey, Hampshire and Dorset, ending up for the night in Exeter. Having been on the road since five in the morning, by the time I got to my hotel room at ten at night, I was exhausted and couldn't stop yawning during a phone call home to Ben.

"Darling, that's about the tenth time you've yawned. I think I'd better say goodnight; you need your beauty sleep."

I was even too tired to respond to his teasing. "I'm sorry love, I've gotten out of practise at this stuff. I promise to be wider awake next time I talk to you."

"Go to bed, love."

"I'm in bed." Pillow, soft. Mmm.

"Good night darling, I love you. Sleep well."

"'Night, Sweetbatch, love you." I pressed the red button then fell back on the pillows and remembered nothing more until the alarm woke me the next morning.


	64. What I Really, Really Want

'There you go."

Rick set a steaming cup of coffee in front of me and I almost inhaled it in my eagerness for the hot, bitter balm to soften my edginess and wake the last batch of protons and neutrons still sleeping lazily within my system. "Oh God, thanks Rick." Even wrapping my hands around the warm china felt restorative. We'd had another early start that morning, with a brief radio slot followed by a breakfast TV show, and the repetition of it all had been playing on my nerves more than usual.

"Are you okay? You sounded a little edgy when Paul asked you about How Can I Tell You."

"Really? You mean I didn't sound thrilled to be answering the same questions for the millionth time in two weeks?" I made no attempt to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"It's all part of the game, Cara, you knew that going in."

I looked at Rick as he took a sip of his own coffee; he drank it black with two sugars, just like Ben, which for some reason I found amusing. My tough-looking, tattoo-covered manager looked a little out of place in this cutesy-kitsch café we'd found ourselves in, in the heart of Derby. Doilies, flowerpots, gingham and cross-stitched words of inspiration surrounded us – even I felt a little uncomfortable.

"You're right." I set my cup down. "I'm sorry Rick, it's just getting to me today; I'm not sure why. I'll behave for the next lot, I promise." I had another three radio slots to do that afternoon.

"It's okay, we all have bad days – just close your eyes and think of Queen and country." We both laughed, and any tension was instantly dismissed. "I have some news that might cheer you up," he said, a glint of something I couldn't quite define in his brown eyes and I waited patiently for him to tell me. "Bob rang to say he's had to put his twentieth celebration back a couple of weeks – some renovations that are taking longer than expected, apparently. So you're free from July fourteenth through to August first. "

I stared at him, unwilling at first to believe what he was saying, not allowing myself to get too excited, though my heart started pumping faster and I'd have sworn I could hear it. "Get out of town!"

He just grinned at me and I knew he wasn't kidding; I leaned over and planted a big kiss on his smooth dome, knowing I had a matching grin spreading over my own face. Scrabbling in my bag, I dug out my phone and sent a text to Ben; I didn't have to wait long for his reply.

Cara: Are you still free second half of July?

Ben: Yes, why?

Cara: You. Me. Wedding. The game is on.

Ben: Fuck! Really?

Cara: Really, really.

Ben: I'll call Jessica. Can't wait. Love you xx

Cara: I like you mildly also xx

Ben: Kooky wench

I laughed out loud, unsure whether to send a bunch of emoticons in response or just let him have the last word. Oh, what the heck, I'm feeling generous!

The rest of the day passed in a much more pleasant manner, Rick telling me later I was in sparkling form for the other interviews. As we drove towards Kettering, our destination for the night, he brought up Ed's offer of signing with his new label.

"I'm still vacillating," I told him, "One minute I think I don't want this to get any bigger or busier than it already is; the next I'm asking myself why I set the ball in motion if I wasn't prepared to see it through as far as it will go." I gave a frustrated sigh. "I'm not sure how to force myself to make a decision, to be honest."

Rick was quiet for thirty seconds before asking, "What's your major concern?"

Staring out the car window at the countryside rushing past – we were haring down the A14 – I told him. "Ben and I both have busy careers that take us away frequently; I don't want us to end up hardly ever being in the same place, barely seeing each other for most of the year. That's no way to have a relationship, let alone a marriage."

"How would you fix it? I mean, still both keep your careers, but work it so you spend a lot of time together."

I frowned. "Perfect scenario?"

"Yeah. Your ideal situation – tell me what you want."

The Spice Girls popped into my head; I gave him a small grin and said, "What I really, really want?"

He grunted in acknowledgement, the corners of his mouth pulling up, but waited for me to answer.

"Life is never perfect, Rick."

"Come on, dream a little here. How would you want it to work?"

Sighing, I gave it some thought. "I guess...if I could schedule being away on tour or promotion or whatever at the same time he's away filming or promoting, so that we're both together the rest of the time."

"Is that feasible from his point of view? Can he schedule things so he's away in blocks, then home in blocks?"

"Well...to a certain extent; he can tell directors when he's available for filming and I suppose if they really want him, they'll wait – or he'd lose the role to someone else. Other things he has no say in – the dates of premieres and film festivals are beyond his control."

"But you could go with him to some of those, like you did to the Oscars. Or even if he's filming away somewhere."

"Sure, if I didn't have anything scheduled."

"That's what I'm saying - you pick and choose your dates. So...why not make that your criteria for signing? Tell Ed that's what you want and if he can't offer that, you say no and stay independent."

It sounded so simple. Was it really that simple?

In the end, it was. I rang Ed the next day and told him what I wanted and why; he thought about it for no more than ten seconds before agreeing wholeheartedly – so ten days later, contract in hand, I became the third artist to sign with Gingerbread Man Records.

\---

"Are you going to eat that?"

I glanced at Ben, then at the ripe golden peach he was referring to; it sat on a plate next to me but I'd gotten a little distracted by my writing. "No, I thought I'd just watch it sit there and ripen until it starts to rot and becomes one with the earth again." Well, my sarcasm amused me, if no one else.

He stuck his tongue out at me and I giggled. We were on the balcony, enjoying the warm summer sun; his shorts bared his legs and his Panama perched on his head, the buttons of his shirt undone to reveal his sculpted torso, and his script sat on his lap. The peach wasn't the only thing that looked good enough to eat.

"Aren't there more inside?" I asked, pseudo-innocently – I knew darn well this was the last one.

He shook his head. "No."

"Oh. That's a shame." God, I loved teasing this man. I counted to fourteen in my head before he spoke again, his voice a little deeper.

"If you're not going to eat it..."

I reached out a hand, took the peach and brought it to my lips, my eyes on his the whole time. He hadn't taken his off the peach, which told me he really wanted it. As I opened my mouth I saw him lick his lips and a quiver shot through me; now I was torn between continuing with my tease or forgetting the peach and jumping him instead. What to do? Oh come on, Cara, if you play it right you can do both. Fuck, yes.

Closing my eyes, I took two large bites from the luscious fruit, deliberately letting the juice dribble down my chin while moaning deep in my throat. "Mmm...God, this is so good." A low growl warned me I may have gone a little far in my teasing and I opened my eyes to find him barely inches in front of me, hat gone and the lust on his face almost scorching me with its intensity. I managed to swallow before his tongue was on me, licking the juice from my mouth, chin and neck. Then he removed the peach from my grasp and returned it to the plate, took my hand and ever...so...slowly...sucked each of my fingers.

Oh Lord. We're surrounded by plants – shouldn't there be more oxygen than this? Wasn't that photo-whatever-it-was thing working?

"Cara." It was a whisper, but one guaranteed to reach the back row seats of a theatre while demolishing the ovaries of every female in the audience. At this range, mine stood no chance; I could almost see them raise a white flag in surrender.

I managed to strangle out some kind of whimper before his face came closer again and I closed my eyes in expectation, breath coming in short, choppy gasps. Who needs air anyway? I'm pretty good at holding my –

His lips touched mine and a raging fire consumed me; I opened my mouth to his demand and tasted the peach on his tongue, on his breath. Hands took mine and placed them around his neck before leaving a trail of goosebumps as they skimmed down my body, taking hold underneath me and lifting me from the chair. Lips locked, he carried me to the bedroom, laying me gently in the middle of our king size bed.

"I'll just have to have you instead," he murmured, kissing my collarbone while pulling at my shorts.

Good plan Cumbers.

\---

The call from Boston came as I was about to make myself lunch on Sunday. "Good morning, sweetheart. What's this I read about you having your first-ever cannoli from the Modern Pastry bakery last night?"

"Hello, love. It was a misquote – I said it wasn't my first cannoli, but they got it wrong. And, by the way, it was nowhere near as wonderful as your grandmother's cannoli, which I told Joel and Jesse."

"Of course it wasn't, Mistakenbatch, I've told you hers is the best in the world."

"How is she?"

I hesitated. I'd seen nonna just yesterday and while she'd seemed to be her usual self, I'd gotten the distinct impression it was an image she was presenting. "She's fine physically, as far as I know, but...I think she's very lonely. It must be hard to be in their flat with sixty-five years of memories."

"Have there been any more suggestions of her moving in with one of your aunts or uncles?"

"Sophia and Tito have both offered, as far as I know, and Marco has offered to move in with her if she wants to stay; it'd be handy for him to be right above the shop, of course." I made an effort to shake off my worry. "Anyway, how's it going there? Have you done any scenes with Johnny Depp yet?"

"No, that'll be tomorrow. Do you want me to get an autograph for you?" he teased.

"Of course," I replied, grinning to myself, "on some underwear, preferably – his, I mean." The gurgling noise he made widened my grin, which turned into a laugh when he swore loudly. "Well, you'll soon be disabusing all those Yanks about what a proper British gentleman you are with language like that, Cumbers." His growling only made me laugh again. "Just hurry up and get back here so I can marry you, Benedict."

"Tell me again why the wedding isn't the day after I return?" he groaned.

"In case filming runs late, silly – and so you and your boys can have a bucks' night and have time to get over it before the big day."

"I don't need a bucks' night."

"Try telling that to Adam and co." Adam was taking his duties as best man very seriously, I'd heard rumoured, and I wondered what on earth he could be planning.

He grunted. "Are you having a hen's night?"

"Of course. Male strippers and sex toys, so I'm told." Actually, Maria had organised a spa day with massages, facials and mud baths – but Ben didn't need to know that just yet. Or even, at all.

"I hope you're only teasing me, wench."

I laughed again. "You'll never know, Cumbers."

We talked for another half hour and I sighed as I hung up; only thirty days to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Yanks' is a term used by Brits, Australians and New Zealanders to refer to Americans.


	65. Just One

Bloody hell! There are literally hundreds of wedding dresses here – how am I supposed to narrow it down to just one?

Nonna and Maria had come with me and on arrival a slim, elegant woman in her fifties greeted us, introducing herself as Madeline. We chatted as she showed us to a viewing area and once we were seated, asked me what style of dress I had in mind.

"Nothing strapless," I was adamant, "because I have no intention of spending my wedding day worrying if my boobs are falling out."

"Cara..."

"Sorry Nonna...breasts." Maria and I exchanged a glance and small smile. "Sheath, A-line or ball gown style, I think; nothing frilly or too plain...I'm sorry, that's probably not terribly helpful, but I'm really not sure..."

Madeline smiled, a genuinely warm smile, and told me she was used to it and not to worry. After we discussed budget and colour – who knew there were so many shades of white? – she said, "Let me go and get a selection of dresses and we can start trying some on."

Oh God, we're going to be here for days.

The first dress she helped me into was virginal white, an illusion neckline of sheer fabric dotted with tiny sparkling beads above a straight across cut bodice and full skirt of tulle dotted with more sparkles. "I think with your colouring and skin tone, an off white would suit you better," Madeline said as she adjusted the layers. I tended to agree and Nonna and Maria both nodded. "How does it feel?"

"I love the skirt and I don't mind the sparkly bits, but the bodice is...I want something a bit more...romantic?" Looking in the mirror, the sleeveless top just didn't seem special enough.

"All right, let's try number two." We returned to the dressing room to try the next offering. "This is an off-the-shoulder A-line." The dress was definitely elegant, tulle with applique and a beaded feature in off-white. We returned to the dais to show the others.

"Wow, Cara. That is gorgeous," Maria breathed.

"What do you think Nonna?" I asked.

"It is very beautiful, cara mia."

It was beautiful and I really did like it, but I had expected to just know instinctively when I found THE dress and I hadn't felt that. I looked in the mirror for a good long time. "This is the one to beat," I finally told Madeline, "but it's just not..."

"Not to worry," she smiled, "we've plenty more."

Yes, that's kind of what I'm worried about. Just as well Ben's away; I don't know if I'll make it home today.

I tried and rejected another dozen dresses, each of them lovely but not one of them that screamed 'Pick Me!' I'd decided on the off-the-shoulder look so we concentrated on that, but they were too fussy, too bling, too young, too revealing or too much for my convent school upbringing to consider suitable for walking down the aisle in. By this time we'd been there almost five hours.

Nonna, Maria and I were discussing the merits of the latest candidate and I hadn't realised we'd slipped into Italian until Madeline spoke. "You're Italian aren't you?" At our nods she continued. "Catholic? Convent school?" I nodded again, completely unsure of where this was leading. She put one hand on her hip, the other to her chin and muttered, "It just might..." before looking at me and saying, "I have something...I'm not sure..."

I shrugged. "I'll give it a try," I told her, returning to the dressing room while she went to find the dress she had in mind. When she came back all I saw initially was tons of tulle and embroidery, but once it was zipped up and I looked in the mirror, my hand went to cover my intake of breath as my heart almost stopped beating.

Oh God, I feel like...a bride. I feel like a bride. This dress...Moisture pooled in my tear ducts and my hands started shaking; I walked on clouds to the dais, lifting the voluminous skirts to step up then turning to show it to Nonna and Maria. Their loud gasps told me they felt the same way I did.

"Oh Cara..."

"Oh, mia dolce ragazza..." (Oh, my sweet girl)

A slightly off-white shade called natural, the bodice and cap sleeves were heavily appliqued tulle, which was repeated around the edges of the overskirt that featured a split front and fell to a chapel length train. The underskirt of plain tulle matched the sash, which at the moment had a large flower-like embellishment on one side.

"Can you remove this flower thing from the sash?" I asked Madeline. "It's not really me, but otherwise, I...I love it...I really love it. I think...no, I know...this is my dress."

She beamed, "Absolutely" as she came closer to check then assured me it could easily be removed

She beamed, "Absolutely" as she came closer to check then assured me it could easily be removed. I turned so the others could see the back but on hearing a noise, swung around again, my heart instantly clenching when I saw tears on Nonna's face. I rushed to crouch down in front of her, skirts billowing around me as Maria put an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you all right? Is this too much for you? I'm so sorry, Nonna." Madeline magically produced a box of tissues and I gently wiped my grandmother's face, feeling heartsick at having caused her distress. "It's too soon, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head and took my hand, bringing it to rest over her heart. "No, my child, no...it's...cosi bella, so beautiful. You look so beautiful, cara mia."

"Oh Nonna..." Relieved, I started to put my arms around her but she pulled back, smiling.

"No, Cara, we must not get tears on your wedding dress."

My wedding dress. Holy crap.

We spent another ten minutes admiring every detail of the gown before Maria brought up the subject of hairstyle and a veil. "You'll wear your hair up, won't you? Something simple and elegant..." Again Madeline surprised us by conjuring up hairpins, so Maria fiddled with my thick sweep of hair and plied it with enough grips to hold it in place.

"What kind of veil do you have in mind?" Madeline asked and once again I floundered, not really knowing.

Before she could go off to find some, Nonna interrupted. "Cara, I have this..." and from her handbag produced something wrapped carefully in tissue. Opening it, she revealed a veil, plain but with embroidered edges that were a similar enough pattern to my dress to not look out of place, long enough to sit over my face and down to the level of the bodice at the back. It looked aged and I ran my fingers over it reverently, knowing intuitively the work was hand embroidered. "Nonna, it's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"I wore it when I married my Alessandro," she stated simply and my heart broke again. Maria and I both reached for the tissues and out of the corner of my eye I saw Madeline wipe her cheeks also – in the course of talking in the changing room I had told her about nonno's recent passing, so she knew how special this was.

"Nonna..." I breathed, too overcome to say more. She patted my hand and held up the veil; I bent down so she could reach to place it over my head then stood proud so she could see. She smiled and squeezed my hand and I knew there was no need for words between us.

"It's perfect, Cara," Maria said softly, handing me more tissues as she added. "Here, don't cry on your dress."

\---

"Darling, you look like you've been crying. What's wrong?"

Ben had called me on Skype and my eyes were still rather puffy from the events at the bridal salon. "Nothing, love, I'm fine. I just had an emotional day; Nonna and Maria came with me to buy a wedding dress."

"Oh, I see. How is your nonna?"

"She's...doing well, actually. I think she was very pleased to be there today."

"I'm glad. Did you find a dress?"

I smiled happily. "Yes, and one for Maria." She was to be my Matron of Honour; we'd found a gorgeous strapless chiffon A-line gown in pale lavender that matched her eyes.

"Good. I can't wait to see it."

"Then stop wasting time playing at gangsters and senators and get your amazing bum home again, Bulgerbatch. I miss you."

"I miss you too, love."

"Did you get me Johnny's autograph yet?"

"I have, though not on underwear, sadly. He signed my handkerchief for you - will that do?"

I sighed theatrically. "I don't know, Cumbers, what is the point in me being engaged to a Hollywood heartthrob if you can't even get some celebrity underwear?"

"Sorry, darling; I'm just not used to being a heartthrob. I'll do better next time," he grinned, brows wiggling.

"See that you do," I mock-admonished, shaking my index finger and wiggling my own brows back at him until we both burst out laughing. "You're turning into a fine kook, Mr Cumberbatch."

His joyful grin brought an answering smile to my own face. "I've told you you're rubbing off on me, Miss de Luca."

"Then my work here is done," I joked, taking a bow as he shook his head at me.

"No, my darling, your work is not finished yet. I'm going to need you to help me stay kooky for a long time to come. I'm thinking sixty years or so – are you up for that?"

I looked at his beloved face, melting at the love shining from his eyes as the tears that had been so much in evidence today surfaced again. I blinked them back and told him with my heart in my throat, "Forever isn't long enough for me."


	66. There's Only One Thing Wrong

"What's up with Jake and Marcus?" I looked past Rick to where the two men appeared to be arguing, their voices slowly getting louder and louder. Glancing around, I noticed a few other faces turning their way and knew something needed to be done before it got out of hand. "Maybe we should..."

"Yeah, I'm on it." Rick hurried over there and stepped between them, talking quietly but urgently to both. I saw Marcus shrug and nod, holding out a hand to shake to Jake, who only scowled and turned away, stomping towards where our kit sat waiting to be taken on stage. We were at Hyde Park, readying for our spot at the British Summer Time event; Neil Young and Crazy Horse were headlining later tonight and I was just one of many smaller acts filling in the day for the thousands who came to enjoy a mix of music, film, literature and sport. Earlier in the week the newly reunited The Libertines had played to a near-capacity crowd of sixty thousand and huge crowds were expected again tonight.

"Is everything okay?" I asked Marcus when he came over.

"It was nothing," he muttered, "Just Jake being Jake."

"What does that mean?" I frowned.

Marcus shrugged. "He's been like a bear with a sore head for the last couple of weeks." I was astonished to hear that. "Since the Henley Festival – haven't you noticed it at rehearsals?" I hadn't, and that concerned me; where had my head been? As if reading my thoughts, he patted my shoulder. "You've been busy with wedding things, I wouldn't..."

"Oh shit," Rick muttered and we both turned to him to say "What?" Looking around before speaking, he said, "Henley's when you told Jake and Marcus about the wedding date being all set."

"Yes." I waited for more, not seeing any connection.

Rick looked at me intently. "Have you spoken to Megan lately?"

"I rang her the other day." Megan was currently in Madrid but would be back this week; I thought of our telephone conversation three days before and her answer when I'd asked how things with Jake were going.

"And?" Rick prompted.

"She said things with Jake were kind of...stalled. Do you think that's it, he's frustrated because of how things are between them?" Rick and Marcus exchanged looks and I sighed. "Okay, you obviously think I'm missing something – what is it?"

"Cara," Marcus took over the explanation while Rick shot me a glance I couldn't yet interpret. "Jake got the news of your wedding date two weeks ago and since then he's been obnoxious. You've had your head in the clouds with wedding things and meanwhile, he's cooling off with Megan. Join the dots, sweetie."

"I don't know what you're..." Oh shit. Perhaps I do. "Wait, you think he's..." No, this can't be happening. Not again. "Oh fuck."

"Yep, that pretty much sums it up." Not really in the mood for Rick's droll humour, I grimaced then groaned when Marcus put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a quick hug.

"Come on, let's just get through today, huh? We can worry about other things later."

And worry I did; we all tip-toed figuratively around Jake for the rest of that day and I had trouble meeting his eyes as we packed up and said goodnight. I worried the next day all through my final dress fitting, a visit to Nonna and having a mani-pedi with my friends Annie and Maggie. Talking with Rick by phone did nothing to help when he confirmed he thought Jake still wasn't over me. Worrying kept me from eating much dinner and enjoying the hot bubble bath I ran then got out of within ten minutes. By the time Ben's call came around eleven that night I had worried myself into a headache and was taking paracetamol when the shrill ringtone jarred in my skull.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Hello, my gorgeous and talented kooky queen. I'm sorry I didn't get to call you last night." He had sent me a text explaining that they were doing a late night shoot, and with the time difference between us it was the mid-small hours of my morning before he finished. "How was the Summer Time gig?"

"It was...good."

"Just good? Not amazing, incredible or wonderful? Adam and Alice got to see you and they said you were all of those things."

"Okay, it was amazing, incredible and wonderful." I knew I'd said that in a flat tone but I felt wretched and couldn't summon up the enthusiasm to be upbeat.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Do you want to go on Skype?"

"No, but I could use a hug right about now." I hadn't said it to make him feel guilty for being away but it seemed to have that effect.

"I'm sorry I'm not there."

"No, Ben, that's not what I...it's just..." I sat down, massaging my temples and wishing I could wake up and this would all have blown away. "I'm sorry darling, I...I'm tired and headachy and apparently getting a little tetchy as well, and I do want to talk about it with you but I just don't want to right this minute." Taking a deep breath I asked, "Is that okay?"

"Of course; I'm here when you're ready, any time."

"Thank you." Sighing internally, I rubbed my eyes and pressed myself to perk up. We talked more as I locked up and headed to the bedroom, my headache finally beginning to ease. He told me amusing anecdotes from the set and I teased him about the 1970s hairstyle he was sporting in photos that had appeared online, especially the sideburns. Lying on the bed listening to his familiar baritone, I felt my tension easing so when our call ended after an hour and a half I was able to fall peacefully asleep.

\---

"Oh, we'll need a piece of iron for Ben to have in his pocket; just something small and light." Jessica gave me a look that I recognised from my friends when they thought I was being particularly kooky. "Italian tradition," I explained, "It's to ward off the evil eye."

"Of course," she replied drolly, which made me chuckle.

"Just be thankful we're not going full traditional Italian wedding – releasing doves and throwing candy covered almonds."

"Crumbs, wouldn't that hurt?"

"Well, I imagine they're not supposed to hit us in the face or anything...Speaking of throwing things, what's the church's policy on confetti or rice?"

"Not a problem - which do you prefer?"

"Confetti – and tons of it. All of my Italian relatives will want to throw plenty." She raised her brow inquisitively. "To wish us prosperity and fertility."

"Okay, a truckload of confetti it is. Any other traditional elements you'd like incorporated?"

I thought about it. "There's shattering a wine glass or vase, but I'll have to check with Ben if he wants to do that one."

"Is that like when Jewish people stomp on a glass?"

"No, I think that's related to the destruction of the temple at Jerusalem," I said, "Our tradition is more prosaic, I'm afraid – the number of shards of glass you get is meant to indicate how many years you'll be happily married."

Jessica smiled. "Better tell him to give it a darned good stomp then."

"Oh, I will," I smiled back.

We finalised a few more details then Jessica bid farewell. I'd barely closed the door before my phone pipped to indicate a text.

Ben: Home tomorrow. Tell your other boyfriend to bugger off xxx

I laughed aloud at his use of our long-standing joke then seconds later an email arrived from his manager with flight details and meeting arrangements. I sent one back asking if I could be included in the airport meet and greet, pleased when I received a positive reply.

An hour later my phone conversation with Wanda was interrupted by a knock at the door. "I'll let you go, Cara, and see you both Thursday night." The smile on my face from our talk faltered when I opened the door and saw who was standing there.

"Jake."

"Hey."

All right, seems neither of us is in chatty mode. Invite the man in, Cara, and find out what he wants.

"Come in."

"Thanks."

It's going to be a long and arduous conversation if both of us keep talking in one or two word sentences. Shit.

"How's things?" I asked as he came in. Oh crap, there I go again.

Jake nodded slowly, hand coming up to sweep aside the fringe falling over his eyes. "Yeah, good."

Leading the way into the lounge, I waved a hand towards the couch to indicate he should sit but he remained standing just a foot away from me and spoke before I could formulate words.

"I'm quitting."

"Jake..."

"I can't do it any more Cara," he didn't let me finish. "I just can't watch you...marry...him. I thought I could but..."

The last time he'd kissed me I had been taken completely by surprise and had reacted with horror – and violence. This time it wasn't totally unexpected and, knowing and understanding how he felt, I kissed him back.


	67. Hens and Princesses

Jake's kiss told me everything he was feeling – there was tenderness and longing, but also sadness and loss. It told me he knew I couldn't love him back the way he wanted and he accepted that. He was saying goodbye. And I kissed him back, not with passion but certainly with love and sadness. I wanted him to know I was sorry and that he would always be in my heart. I was telling him goodbye as well.

When he finally pulled away and let me go, he murmured, "I've given Rick a couple of names for replacements."

"Okay," was all I could manage.

And with that he was leaving as quietly as he'd arrived. I stood at the door and before he disappeared down the stairwell, called out, "Jake." He stopped and turned to me, the look on his face squeezing my heart. "Thank you. For everything." He nodded, opening his mouth as if to say something then thought better of it, gave me the smallest of smiles and continued on his way.

"Shit," I said to the empty flat as I closed the door behind me, sliding to the floor with the opening words from Photograph popping unbidden to mind. 'Loving can hurt, Loving can hurt sometimes, but it's the only thing that I know.' "Shit, shit, fuckity fuck." Then the tears came and I cried for a friend who was hurting, and for myself for losing him.

\---

"Darling, there's something I want to tell you. Need to tell you. Want or need? No, both – I want and need to tell you. Or maybe now's not the right time; you're probably a bit jet-lagged and tired, though you don't look tired, you look just as gorgeous as always. More gorgeous, because I've missed you so much." I ran a hand over his face – those amazing cheekbones and oh-so-kissable lips. "Are you tired? Do you mind me telling you even if you're tired? Should I wait and tell you later, after you've had some sleep? Or perhaps..."

Long fingers stalled my verbal diarrhoea and were soon replaced – all too briefly - by those wonderful lips. "Cara, you're rambling."

"Yes, well, that's what I do, isn't it. And I'm pretty good at it, I think. I've had plenty of..." Fingers on my lips hushed me again.

"What are you nervous about?" he asked softly, snaking an arm around my waist to draw me closer as we sat on the couch, late morning sunshine highlighting the auburn tints in his hair and throwing his face into relief. He smelled as good as he looked and my eyes closed briefly while I inhaled eau de Benedict. "Is this related to whatever it was you were upset about the other night?"

Nodding, I brought my eyes to his. "Yes it is, it's all part and parcel...but you have to promise you won't get upset. And you'll listen to the whole story before you say or do anything...will you promise?"

The searching look he gave me seemed to gaze right into my soul. "I can't promise not to get upset."

"Why not?" I frowned.

"Because you're making it sound like it's something I will get upset about, so it's hardly fair to make me promise not to."

Oh God, I'm not sure I'm up to working out that logic. It sounds reasonable enough... "But you promise to hear me out and not say or do anything until you've heard every single word, even if you are upset?" There's that searching gaze again. I squirmed a bit, but held my own; it was vital he heard the whole thing or it would sound bad. Really bad.

Eventually he nodded. "Yes." I breathed in relief and began, starting with Jake's behaviour at the gig and what Marcus and Rick had attributed it to, through to him coming here and quitting the band and then kissing me. And me kissing him back. And why. Then I willed my heart to keep beating while I waited for him to say something. When he removed his arms from around me and stood up I froze, my pulse skipping a beat until he began pacing backwards and forwards in front of me and I could inhale again. He had his actor face on, so I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling or...oh God, say something Ben, please.

Finally he stopped pacing and sat again, though not quite as close as before. "If it were Olivia who was still in love with me and we kissed like that, how would you feel?" Olivia was an ex-girlfriend; they'd been together for ten years before splitting up.

"That's different Ben, you and Olivia had a romantic relationship, Jake and I never did."

"Still, she realised I'd never go back to her and kissed me goodbye and I kissed her back."

"With the same feelings as when I kissed Jake?"

"Yes."

I gave it serious thought. I had seen him kiss other women, of course, even passionately – and though it was an element of his craft and meant nothing, I still experienced a visceral reaction each time. Before we met I'd had no trouble watching him in sex scenes but now I couldn't bear to see them – I'd found that out the hard way. The one time I had watched, I'd sat there making comparisons – did he make love in movies the same way he made love to me? It was torment. I may have felt silly being jealous of something that was merely pretend, but it didn't stop me feeling that way.

"I'd be a bit jealous," I said honestly, "and perhaps a little hurt."

"Would you think I was cheating on you?"

"Not if you told me you weren't. I trust you."

He nodded. "Then we're on the same page."

Oh God. A range of emotions battered me but I was determined not to let my voice wobble when I told him, "I'm not cheating on you Ben."

Thankfully his response came quickly. "I believe you." The impassive expression was gone, relief in its place. His eyes, though, showed a flash of jealousy and hint of sorrow, and I felt a stab of pain in my chest.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." The sadness and guilt I felt thickened my throat and brought tears to my eyes but I blinked them back determinedly.

"I know, darling...I know that wasn't your intention." His fingers ran over his jaw and mouth then slowly reached out to me; I grasped them as a drowning man would a lifebuoy.

"Are we...okay?" I asked tentatively, not wanting to read too much into the gesture, watching his face desperately for a sign that I didn't need to start packing my bags.

He looked surprised for a fleeting moment before warmth and tenderness flooded his features and the pounding of my heart slowed to a more normal rhythm. When he held his other arm wide and said, "Of course we are," I needed no second bidding to enter his embrace and wrap my own arms around him, burying my head in the crook of his neck.

"I love you so much," I told his shoulder.

"I love you too. How about marrying me next week?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

The rumble of his laughter reassured me as much as his words had and I gave a sigh of relief as a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. It's okay. We're okay. Thank God.

\---

The House of Elemis lived up to all the hype my sister-in-law had given it. Tucked away on a cobblestoned Mayfair street like a sanctuary in the middle of the busy city, its luxurious newly renovated shop and treatment rooms were the perfect places in which to relax. We'd started with the Biotec facial which involved micro electric currents, light therapy and oxygen infusion to – as Sonia, our therapist, put it - repair, firm, invigorate and generally princess-ify our skin. The others – Maria, Maggie, Annie, Antonella and my cousins Stefania and Isobella – were enjoying the treatment as much as I was, if the myriad of moans and sighs I heard was anything to go by.

"I could seriously get to like having this treatment regularly," Annie said as we sipped on the glass of champagne we'd been given after our facials. "Who's next to be married after Cara? You totally have to come back here again."

"Ella!" Maria, Stef, Izzy and I all said at once, making Antonella blush furiously.

"I don't understand why that brother of mine hasn't proposed to you yet," I told her, taking another large sip from my glass – perhaps not the best idea as I hadn't eaten all day and the alcohol was likely to go straight to my head. Well, heck, it's my Hen's Day; I can get a little tiddly can't I?

"Maybe you should follow Cara's example and do the proposing yourself," Stef suggested, causing Ella to blush again and me to giggle.

"I don't know how you had the balls to do that in front of so many people, Cara; I would've been frozen with fright," Maggie said.

"It just slipped out," I giggled again, "I hadn't planned it but it felt right at the time."

"It was obvious you hadn't planned it, sis, or your speech would have gone for half an hour instead of five minutes." Maria had a point, of course, and we all laughed at my propensity for word vomit.

"Was Benedict surprised?"

I smiled at Izzy. "He had planned to propose to me that night, apparently – he had the ring in his pocket." There were lots of awwwws and sighs. "But he's used to me blurting out whatever comes to mind; he told me nothing I say surprises him any more."

Thinking of that night reminded me of something else he said after I'd proposed – about it being a great story to tell our children. I felt a deep pull in the pit of my stomach but before I could begin to analyse it we were summoned for our next treatment – The Garden of England Rose Restore Massage – which promised to be an hour's worth of sheer relaxation. Maria, Ella and I were in a room together and although we chatted gaily to begin with, conversation soon fell by the wayside as we succumbed to the pleasures of the salt scrub and soft, hydrating body massage. It was total Heaven.

From the spa we progressed to a quaint little bar nearby and I had a couple more drinks. When the barman discovered I was a bride-to-be he gave me a third, on the house, and asked what my fiancé was like. "I haven't had any man candy in a while, honey," he told me, "I'll have to live vicariously through you."

"Mmm, tall...yummy...beautiful eyes...soft hairs on his chest...sooooo sexy...gorgeous bum..." I was about to take another sip of the lovely tropical-looking concoction when Maria suddenly appeared at my side. "All right missy, I think we need to get some food into you – we don't want you peaking too early in the evening."

"Peeking? Is there presents? Oh, I love presents!"

"No, that's not the peaking I meant." She removed the glass from my hand and pulled me off the barstool. "We might need coffee as well."

"Hey! That's my cute little umbrella!" I protested. She grabbed the umbrella from the drink with a groan and an eye roll and handed it to me before dragging me away. The others surrounded me as I walked along admiring its papery cuteness and before I knew it we were outside a restaurant; looking up I saw the name Da Corradi. "Oh no, not Italian food!" I exclaimed in what I thought was a quiet voice, but the instant shushing I got from my friends led me to believe perhaps it was louder than I'd intended. "I eat that stuff all the time! Come on, I want...umm...what do I want?" I looked at them but they just looked back blankly. Sheesh. No help at all. Umm, what do I want to eat? Some kind of...food...yeah, food. Mmmm. "Chinese!" I announced. "I want won tons." Hehe, that sounds funny. "Won tons," I said again, looking at the others, who didn't seem to get it. "Tough crowd," I muttered, admiring my umbrella once more.

Someone looked up Chinese restaurants on their iPhone then I was dragged off again a block away to the Princess Garden. I giggled when I saw the name. "Hey, we got all princessed, no...princtified...at the spa! This is perfick for us!"

"Good grief, Cara, you are such a lightweight," Stef laughed.

"Nope," I replied, popping my 'p' like Ben did and giggling when it made me picture him doing it. "I don't box."

"Oh, honey," Annie laughed, putting her arm around my shoulder and leading me to a table. "Come on, let's get some won tons into you."

I grinned, sitting down heavily on plush red velvet. "Won tons. Hehehe."

\---

Somewhat revived by Cantonese cuisine and a strong coffee, we went on to a nightclub to dance. The throbbing beat of the music pulsated through me and I leapt on the dance floor like I was drawn by a magnet, writhing and twisting as if my life depended on it.

But dancing is thirsty work and before long I needed some refreshment; by the time we'd been dancing for three hours I had built up a stack of small umbrellas. They'd started getting a little fuzzy when Ella plopped down beside me, her face flushed from dancing and her eyes sparkling.

"This is fun!" she exclaimed. "Are you enjoying yourself Cara?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "Whoa! How did you get so many faces?" She appeared to have multiplied into six or seven clones; I peered at them blearily, squinting and blinking my eyes until the number changed to only three. "Ella, that's freaky – you have to stop. What will nonna say?"

"O-kaaay, look's like the bride-to-be needs to be cut off," all her faces said and smiled to someone next to me. I turned to see who it was.

"Hey, you know, you look a lot like my cousin," I told the new set of faces. "'Cept she's taller and not as pretty." All the faces laughed so I grinned. "Not as tall as my Benny, though...he's taller. And Tom's tallerer than him, even, you know?" The heads nodded sagely. "Do you know my Benny?" I asked them all. "Isn't he wonderful? He loves me, you know, especially my naughty maid outfit." I winked with both eyes.

"Cara! Oh my God! Too much information!" some of the heads said.

"What?" I aksed...um, asked.

Just then a whole bunch more faces arrived. "Is there a twins conven...content...meeting here, cause damn!"

"All right, let's get her home," a voice said; it seemed to be coming from a group of women to my left.

"Home?" I asked.

"Home to Ben," they answered.

"My Benny?" I looked around at them all. How did they do that dancing in circles thing? "He has a gorgeous bum. Have you seen it?"

"Cara!"

After that I remember some bright lights, cool air, a lumpy seat and one of the heads letting me rest on her shoulder. Then it all went blank.


	68. Make No Promises

"Good morning sweetheart."

"Nnngg."

"How do you feel?"

"Nnngg."

Bouncing. Rustling. Clinking. Whooshing. Jostling. "Take these." God, they had better be cyanide. A large hand lifted the vessel of torture sitting on my neck and glass clinked against my teeth. "Open up." I opened. Something sat momentarily on my parched, sandpaper tongue before I guzzled the entire contents of the glass. "More water?"

"Nnngg." I moved my vessel of torture – let's call it a head – away from the hand and laid it back down.

A small pause. "Was that a yes 'Nnngg' or a no 'Nnngg'?"

"Nnngg!" I said louder. That should clarify things.

With the addition of some under-breath muttering that I ignored, we repeated the procedure with the hand, glass and water guzzling then I lay down again thankfully, wishing with all my heart that the little men with jackhammers would stop building a super highway on my cranium.

"I'll leave you to sleep some more," he said.

"Nnngg!" I moaned in protest.

I heard a deep sigh. "Darling, I'm only a man and we simply don't have the highly evolved language development of the fairer sex, so I really am at a loss here."

Oh, Sassybatch, is it? I'm going to remember that later. Much later. Well, I hope I will. Right now I have to dig deep and come up with a sound more meaningful and communicative, yet just as simple and effortless to say as 'Nngg' for my poor, unevolved man to understand. Something that takes minimal movement of diaphragm, larynx, lips and tongue, otherwise those workmen in my brain will use the opportunity to start digging a new on-ramp for the super highway.

I opened my mouth. "Spoon." There, that should do it. You know, I feel strangely triumphant. Yeah, go me.

"Spoon? You want a spoon? What kind of spoon? Or a spoonful of something?"

Oh. My. God. This time my "Nnngg!" was of pure frustration and I heard another sigh. I held out a hand to him, swinging it blindly because, after all, I couldn't see him. Oh, I didn't mention that earlier? Well, you seriously didn't think with all this construction going on in my brain that I would have the covers up on my vision portals, did you? Nah uh. Nope. No way, José.

Ben took my hand – thank the Lord – and I tugged it weakly in the direction of my back, summoning all my energy to once again emit the word, "Spoon."

And then, to show that he is just a smidge evolved after all, he understood, and came around the other side of the bed, snuggling up behind me and wrapping an arm about my waist. I threaded my fingers through his and pressed myself closer. His breath was warm on my ear and I inhaled the fresh-from-the-shower scent of him.

"Nnngg," I sighed contentedly.

"Nnngg to you too," he whispered, squeezing my hand then pressing a tender kiss to my construction zone.

I smiled, and then I fell asleep.

\---

When I awoke I was alone in the bed. The room was darkened but not dark, telling me I hadn't entirely slept the day away. I stretched and moved tentatively, relieved beyond measure that I felt human and not like a roadwork site and that my tongue seemed to have lost most of its sandpaper roughness. Groaning as I got out of bed, I made my way to the bathroom and seconds later hot, refreshing water was cascading over my head and down my back. I shampooed gingerly, mindful of the dull ache still lurking at my temples but feeling more energised with every second. Once I'd dried off and brushed hair and teeth I returned to the bedroom to dress and that's when I smelt it - the second most wonderful aroma in the history of mankind.

"Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee..." I wandered into the kitchen following that tantalising scent to see Ben holding my 'I can't adult today' mug out to me, aromatic steam billowing. I took three large swallows and felt the caffeine flowing through my system.

He was perched on a stool next to the bench looking like every woman's dream: five o'clock shadow, sleeves rolled up to the elbows revealing strong, muscular forearms, a few unruly curls tumbling haphazardly, slanted sun accenting high cheekbones. I moved in front of him; he widened his legs so I could stand between them, one hand on his shoulder while the other brought more of the life-saving elixir to my mouth.

"I'm glad to see you've added another word to your vocabulary, sweetheart," he grinned cheekily, earning himself a punch on the shoulder that only broadened his smirk.

"Smart arse," I muttered, draining my cup.

He laughed, eyes shining and a hand rubbing my back in rather hypnotically soothing circles. "How much do you remember of yesterday?"

I watched approvingly as he poured me another coffee while I thought about his question. "I remember the spa treatments, Chinese food and dancing – and pretty drinks with little umbrellas in them. Far too many of those," I shuddered.

"You were out like a light when they brought you home; I had to come down and carry you up from the taxi."

Leaning in closer, I put my arms behind his back as I dipped my forehead to rest on his. "Oh hell, sorry love. Not my finest hour."

"You're allowed to let loose, you know." Pulling back to look at me, he asked, "How does your head feel?"

"Um, small hammering here," I touched the spots, "but otherwise, better than I have a right to expect."

"Okay, move back." I took two steps away from him; he got off the stool and went behind it. "Now sit." I sat. Moving close enough for me to feel his body heat, he tenderly pulled my head back to rest against his torso and gentle fingers began to massage my temples, pressure slowly increasing as I closed my eyes and moaned in approval.

"Oh...oh God, Ben...that's...oh..."

"Keep moaning like that and we'll need to take this to the bedroom," the husky timbre of his voice sent shivers down my spine; tilting my head back, I looked directly into his eyes and moaned again. "Wench," he murmured, the back of one hand ghosting ever so softly over my cheek, fingers gliding across my lips to set every nerve ending aflame.

"Ben..." I whispered, rising as he came to stand in front of me, one hand moving up to cup his face, the other his nape.

"Your head..."

"...is fine," I finished for him, tip-toeing to bring my lips that last inch toward his. All the nerves I'd thought deadened suddenly sprang to life. Blood rushed from brain to skin surface, making it ultra-sensitive to the touch of his firm body against mine; I moaned into his mouth, feeling as if I were sinking and quite willing to drown if it meant this would never end. I sensed he was restraining himself, though, for fear I was in a more delicate state than I had let on. "Don't hold back," I told him and he growled deep in his throat, the tenor of his kisses changing, becoming more demanding, more possessive.

"God, I love kissing you," he murmured after carrying me down the hall and laying me on the bed. Impatient hands pulled my tee shirt up and I lifted my shoulders for him, gasping as he laid siege to my neck, shoulders and cleavage with lips, tongue and teeth, before returning to my mouth. "I love waking up with you," a kiss to my neck. "I love holding you in my arms as you fall asleep," kisses to the lace of my bra. "I love making love with you and the sounds you make when I bring you pleasure," kisses trailed down my stomach.

"Don't...don't say that in your wedding vows," I teased him, heart hammering wildly in my chest. 

He gave the little half smile that still made my tummy tingle and murmured "Wench," before plundering my mouth again with a kiss so full of passion and need that I practically melted on the spot.

\---

Later after we'd showered together I checked my phone for the first time that day while he prepared for his stag night. I had messages from Maria and Annie, both wanting to know if I was okay, so I sent quick replies to those as Ben brushed his hair and searched for wallet, keys, phone etc.

"What will you do while I'm gone, sweetheart?" he called from the lounge.

Following and setting his collar straight, I kissed him briefly before replying, "I'm going to have a nice quiet night; probably watch a movie or read a book."

"I won't be terribly late home," he said, pulling me closer to slide his large hands down my back to rest on my bum.

"You're allowed to let loose," I quoted his words back to him, which he acknowledged with a small grin. "You probably don't want to be too hungover for your birthday or dinner with your parents, but I'd love to know if James was right."

"Oh God, yes, I'd forgotten that was tomorrow. Right about what?"

"That 'drunk Sherlock is terrifyingly, hysterically similar to a drunk Cumberbatch'." James had tweeted that after the 'Sign of Three' episode and while I'd seen Ben tipsy a couple of times, I'd never seen him drunk.

Laughing, he declared he had no intention of imbibing that much. I wasn't too sure that it would be up to him, but held my tongue – with the two Adams, James, Matthew, Martin and Tom among the group tonight, I felt reasonably certain they would be doing their best to make sure he was inebriated.

A knock at the door heralded Tom's arrival and after a brief chat, the two men readied to leave.

"See you later darling. Love you."

"Love you too. Have fun." Then to Tom I said, "Make sure you bring him home in one piece please."

Tom grinned, his light blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can't make any promises, Cara, but I'll do my best."


	69. James Was Right

Something startled me and I discovered I'd fallen asleep reading on the couch; my book lay neglected on my lap, my face was pressed into a cushion and my glasses sat skew-whiff. Righting myself, I peered at my watch to find it was almost two in the morning. Then I heard them again – the sounds that had woken me - muffled laughter, subdued masculine voices and the unmistakeable titter of Ben's giggles. Smiling to myself, I walked towards the door, fairly certain of what I was going to find on the other side.

"Cara! Oh gosh, I'm so sorry we've disturbed you; we were trying to get this chap in without making too much noise. I know it's late, sorry." Tom the Apologiser looked mortified; I merely shook my head and smiled.

"Hellooooooo my darling wench!" my apparently inebriated fiancé crooned, lurching towards me out of Adam's grip and suddenly it felt like I was being hugged by an excited octopus – arms seemed to be everywhere. When he stumbled slightly we were in very real danger of falling and had it not been for both Tom and Adam grabbing his jacket, would have ended up in a tangled heap on the entrance floor.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Tom apologised again, making me chuckle.

"Come on mate!" Adam took Ben in a firmer hold, manhandling him through the doorway.

"Let me go!" Ben resisted, arms still swinging wildly in my direction. "Want my wench!" It reminded me so much of the 'I know ash!' scene that it was all I could do not to burst out laughing; I settled for sharing a broad grin with his two friends instead.

"He's a little feisty," Adam laughed.

"So it appears," I agreed.

"Sorry!" Tom said.

I took Ben's hands in mine, holding his arms down so he didn't swipe me inadvertently but before I could ask him if he wanted coffee or water, they wound around me, pulling me tight against him as his mouth came down on mine in a kiss that was explosively potent – and not just from the alcohol on his breath. By the time I could come up for air my knees felt as if I'd been at the bar with them.

"Okay, if you're going to do that, it's time we left," Adam observed and started towards the door, a blushing Tom going with him, muttering "Sorry!" again.

Laughing, I tried to release myself to see them out, but Ben wasn't having any of it so I thanked and farewelled them from where I was, hearing the door close quietly after them.

"Ben, I think..." but I got no further before being crushed once again to his form as warm lips found mine. Fingers fumbled with my clothing while at the same time he attempted to toe his shoes off.

So drunk Benedict is an amorous Benedict. Good to know.

"I love you, Cara," he whispered before his mouth laid siege to my throat, earlobes and the sensitive spot at the back of my neck. He'd turned into an octopus again, hands roaming everywhere, squeezing and caressing until coherent thought was becoming difficult.

"Ben, you're drunk," I tried again to give him the option to stop.

"Drunk on your beauty," was his response and I gave up, returning his kisses with equal fervour and helping with the clothing problem while pulling him towards the couch, fairly certain we'd never make it all the way to the bedroom.

\---

Waking a few hours later, I wriggled out from under a Ben dead to the world, covering him with a blanket before going to shower and dress. Quietly I snuck out of the flat to meet Rick downstairs; he was delivering Ben's birthday gift for me. We wheeled it into the garage and after thanking him for his help I explained why I couldn't invite him up for coffee.

"That's okay, I can't stay anyway – we're rehearsing the new band members." We'd taken on three – John, a bass guitarist, Callie, a back up singer and Tyrone, who could play violin and cello. "Everything all set for Saturday? Is there anything I can help with?"

"Thanks Rick, I think Jessica's got everything pretty much in hand, but I'll let you know if there is. Do you need me there today?"

"Callie's working on the songs for Cambridge from recordings and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon we'll get you together, so don't worry about that. The others will be fine with just Marcus and I. You enjoy the day with Ben."

As I climbed the stairs after he'd gone I thought about how different Ben's birthday had been last year. We'd both been under a huge misapprehension about the other's intentions and spent the day apart and miserable until Ben had come knocking on my door to sort it out. Thank God he did, I thought, or my stubborn-headedness could have kept us apart permanently. Finding him still sound asleep, I pulled suitcases out from the hall closet and began packing for our honeymoon.

\---

"Cara?"

"In the bedroom." Ben appeared, hair looking like he'd been dragged through a hedgerow backwards, eyes half open and bleary, hands holding the sides of his head as if it were in danger of falling off, and still buck naked. I stifled a giggle. "How are you feeling, love?"

"Pretty 'Nnngg' if I'm honest."

Smiling, I indicated the ensuite. "Have a shower while I make coffee." Before I left I gently touched his face and left a light kiss on his lips. "Happy birthday by the way."

"Thank you darling." His voice sounded pretty rough.

Ten minutes later he took the paracetamol and Alka-Seltzer I had put out then reached for his coffee mug with one hand and me with the other as he settled on the same stool as yesterday.

"What time did I get in?" he asked, sipping the strong black liquid. I'd added an extra sugar to his usual two, figuring the sweetness might help revive his energy.

"Around two." I smoothed his damp curls, being mindful of how much his head would be hurting. "Tom and Adam brought you home."

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry, love," he frowned.

"It's okay," I assured him, "I'd fallen asleep on the couch anyway, so I heard you all outside the door."

"How did I end up naked there this morning? Was I in such a terrible state you didn't want me in bed with you?"

"Um, no, not exactly." I blushed, looking down and fiddling with his shirt button. "You don't remember anything about when you got home?"

"No," he frowned again, clearly searching his memory. "Not a thing. But you've got me worried now – what did I do?"

"Well, me, basically."

I counted the seconds until that sunk in – seventeen – then grinned at the astonished look on his face as he gazed at me, then the couch, then back to me again. "We...I...you...last night?"

"Well, this morning technically. An early birthday present," I smiled.

He looked aghast. "Darling that's terrible! I'm so, so sorry – will you forgive me?"

"For making love to me on the couch? Ben, we've done it there plenty of times before." I wasn't sure why he was so upset.

"No, love, for doing it while I was drunk and not remembering a thing about it. Fuck! That is not how a gentleman behaves. I feel terrible, sweetheart – I'm so sorry."

He looked so upset I put a hand on either cheek, held his head firmly and made him look me right in the eyes. "There is nothing to be sorry for, Ben – it's not like I wasn't a willing participant and besides, you were extremely amorous and rather...creative." Wanting to lighten the mood as well as reassure him, I winked and grinned, holding my breath until I saw the edges of his lips turn up.

Quickly changing the subject to distract him, I asked if he was feeling up to receiving his birthday present, so he downed the rest of his coffee and I took him down to the garage. "Close your eyes," I instructed before opening the door and guiding him in a few steps. "Stop. Okay, you can look...now!" Whisking off the tarpaulin cover, I watched his face as he opened his eyes and stared at the machine before him.

"Cara...oh God, she's beautiful...I can't believe..."

"It's an original 1950 Triumph 6T Thunderbird, the bike ridden by Brando in The Wild One," I told him proudly, thrilled when he ran his hand lovingly over the seat and tank then down over all the mechanical bits I didn't know the names of. "Do you like it?" It was a silly question really – the joy and wonder on his face told me the answer before I even asked.

"Do you like it?" It was a silly question really – the joy and wonder on his face told me the answer before I even asked

"Darling...like just doesn't begin to cover it." Once again I was thoroughly kissed until my knees felt weak. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He went back to inspecting the bike. "Where did you find her? She's in such great condition."

"Rick knows a guy," I told him simply. "Why don't you take her for a ride?"

"You'll come too?"

I shook my head. "Just you the first time; I'll come next time." With two brothers, I understood all about 'boys and their toys'.

Needing no further encouragement, he grabbed his jacket and helmet from the hook and gave me another kiss before putting them on. "You are incredible. I love you so much."

"I love you too."

"We could ride her around to my parents' tonight; dad will love her." He would too; Tim loved bikes as much as Ben.

"It's a date," I told him, then waved him off, smiling.


	70. Forever Isn't Long Enough

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to write my vows."

"Cara! The ceremony starts in half an hour!"

"I know, I know."

"Haven't you thought of anything to say before now?"

"Hello, have we met? Thinking of things to say is not an issue; it's more I'm afraid once I get started we'll be here for an entire week."

Smiling through her groan, Maria patted my shoulder in empathy. She looked beautiful in her lavender gown with her dark curly hair swept up and decorated with delicate cream-coloured rosebuds. The dainty amethyst earrings I had given her sparkled as they caught the sunlight and I smiled back before returning to my task.

Which words to say? From all the thousands – no, millions – of things I could say to Ben, which few do I pick as we stand together before God and our friends and families? Oh, hell!

Catching sight of my reflection in the ornate gilded mirror on the wall next to me, I paused to admire the hairdresser's work. My thick locks were caught at the back in a gentle up-do while loose tresses at my ears had been softly curled to frame my face and I had put disposable contact lenses in. Not that I minded wearing my glasses, even for wedding photos, but they tended to fog up when I was teary and I thought the chances of me and tears were pretty high today. I hadn't yet put on my veil, but lifted my hand to the necklace and earrings of Akoya pearls Ben had given me as a wedding gift, round cream pearls with lustre so high they were almost reflective. He would be wearing the gift I had given him, cufflinks in gold-plated black onyx surrounded by diamonds and inscribed with the words Stage Left and Stage Right.

"So you don't forget," I'd told him when he opened the box and laughed.

"I adore your kookiness," he'd said, pulling me close to weaken my knees with a tender kiss. "Don't ever change."

"I don't think that's possible," I'd smiled in reply, touching my fingertips to his lips before kissing him again.

Concentrate, Cara! I brought myself back to the moment and jotted down a couple of thoughts, only to be interrupted by my phone vibrating with a text message.

Ben: I can't wait to make you my wife. Do NOT be late!

Chuckling, I sent a reply I knew would make him smile.

Cara: Oh, is that today?

His reply was predictable but made me laugh nevertheless.

Ben: Teasing wench!

Sending a string of heart emoticons, I looked up as the door opened and Jessica came in. Waiting until I finished, she drew breath for an update.

"The security guys are all in place and so far there's no sign anyone's caught wind of our presence. Benedict has arrived at the church and is mingling with the guests; we'll get them ushered in around..." she consulted her watch, "five minutes from now. The second photographer is downstairs talking to your brother."

A lump the size of a golf ball appeared in my throat at the mention of Tony; I'd asked him to give me away but couldn't help thinking how much I wished nonno were here to walk me down the aisle. "Are you okay?" Maria asked quietly, coming to my side with tissues as she sensed my distress. I nodded, taking a deep breath and telling myself nonno would be thrilled to see Tony perform this task.

"We're scheduled to leave in ten minutes," Jessica continued. "Are you ready Cara?"

I had only to put on my veil and take the bouquet. "Yes."

"You haven't written your vows!" Maria reminded me.

Shit. "I'll just have to wing it," I said.

"Lord have mercy on us all," Maria crossed herself as she muttered the exact same words I was thinking and I burst out laughing.

"I don't think even He can save you all once I really get going!" I spluttered between giggles. Jessica looked at the two of us almost splitting our sides and shook her head, a rueful smile edging her mouth.

"I'll send your brother up," she said, chuckling as she headed out the door.

Calming, Maria made me sit as she carefully lifted nonna's veil over my head and clipped it in place, then handed me the bouquet of ivory roses and lavender. The dress and veil were my something old and new; Wanda had loaned me a lace handkerchief and I wore a blue garter. One last check in the mirror to ensure makeup hadn't run and I was ready to go, until a thought struck me as we reached the waiting car.

"Give me my phone please."

"Cara, what on earth...?"

"I just want to send a quick text to Ben."

"He won't have his phone on him standing at the altar!"

"No, he'll have given it to Adam to look after and Adam will show him the text." I held out my hand to my incredulous sister-in-law. She looked briefly at Tony, who nodded, then handed it over with a sigh and I quickly sent a brief text.

Cara: The game is on!

\---

When I am old and in my dotage, arthritic, with rheumy eyes and blunted teeth, this moment will be a golden memory that will warm me even on the bitterest of days. Doors have swung open and I am looking down an aisle toward the man who, beyond all belief and wildest dreams, loves me as much as I adore him. How is that possible? What did I do, Lord, to deserve his love? As I slowly make my way forward my eyes run over the back view I have of him, wondering how it is that he can be more handsome today than I have ever seen. His arms are held at his side and I picture them holding me in tenderness, in strength and in passion. His black jacket hugs shoulders I have leaned against and cried on and pushed in play. Then he turns, eyes first, and for me time stands still and my lungs are bereft of oxygen. The look of love on his face will stay with me until the end of my days and I pray to God it is reflected on my own so he may know the depth of my feelings for him.

Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben...I say his name in my head with each step that brings me closer until suddenly he is at my side and I at his; which is when I discover his tears and my heart threatens to burst forth from my chest. Taking his mother's hanky, I gently wipe the glistening drops from his face.

"Cara..." his sigh is barely heard, a sound for we two alone.

"Ti amo," I breathe, smiling at him until I see an answering smile and we both turn to the priest.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in God's presence to witness and to celebrate the marriage of Benedict and Cara and to ask God to bless them so that they may be strengthened for their life together. We are called to rejoice in their happiness, and find in their love a reason to renew our own commitments to those whom are near and dear to each of us. God gave us marriage for the full expression of love between a man and a woman so that husband and wife may cherish and delight in one another; comfort and help each other in sickness, trouble and sorrow; provide for each other in temporal things; pray for and encourage each other in the things that pertain to God; and live together faithfully all the length of their days."

We bowed our heads for the opening prayer.

"Almighty and ever-blessed God, whose presence is the happiness of every condition, and whose favour hallows every relation: we beseech you to be present and favourable unto these your servants, that they may be truly joined in the honourable estate of marriage, in the covenant of their God. As you have brought them together by your providence, sanctify them by your Spirit, giving them a new frame of heart fit for their new estate; enrich them with all grace, whereby they may enjoy the comforts, undergo the cares, endure the trials, and perform the duties of life together, under your guidance and protection; through Jesus Christ we pray. Amen."

Instead of a psalm or hymn, we'd both preferred to have music that spoke of the way we felt about each other. When Ben requested one of my songs, my emotions threatened to overwhelm me. "Darling, your beautiful singing brought us together; what could be more wonderful than being surrounded by it as we commit our lives to each other?" At that point I had lost it and tears overflowed as I flung myself into his arms.

Now I risked a glance at him as the recorded music echoed into the rafters of this lovely old church; I had written and recorded this song especially for today and Ben hadn't heard it before. 

 

I hear people say, "Forever and a day" 

And now that I've found you, I know what it means 

More than eternity, but even then, you see 

Forever isn't long enough for me  

 

I want you in my arms to kiss, 

To feel our hearts entwined 

I want our love to last like this  

Beyond the end of time

We share a love so strong 

There's only one thing wrong - 

Forever isn't long enough for me 

 

With every step we take

And promises we make 

The road is paved with dreams

And I know they'll come true 

If only there could be a little more, you see  -

Forever isn't long enough for me  

 

I want you in my arms to kiss 

To feel our hearts entwined

I want our love to last like this 

Beyond the end of time 

We share a love so strong 

There's only one thing wrong  -

Forever isn't long enough for me  

Forever isn't long enough for me

 

Ben had tears in his eyes once more and the hand holding mine was shaking a little – or maybe that was my hand shaking. I saw him swallow hard before he raised my fingers to his lips and gave me a look that caused the breath to catch in my throat. Now I was swallowing hard as James stepped up to give the first reading, The Covenant of Marriage.

"Marriage has certain qualities of contract, in which two people take on the housekeeping tasks of living, together, to enhance life's joy. However, marriage is more than a contract. Marriage is a commitment to take that joy deep, deeper than happiness, deep into the discovery of who you most truly are. It is a commitment to a spiritual journey, to a life of becoming -- in which joy can comprehend despair, running through rivers of pain into joy again. And thus marriage is even deeper than commitment. It is a covenant -- a covenant that says: I love you. I trust you. I will be here for you when you are hurting and when I am hurting I will not leave. It is a covenant intended not to provide haven from pain or anger and sorrow. Life offers no such haven. Instead, marriage is intended to provide a sanctuary safe enough to risk loving, to risk living and sharing from the center of oneself. This is worth everything."

Annie followed, reading the poem 'To Love is Not to Possess' by James Kavanaugh.

 

"To love is not to possess,

To own or imprison,

Nor to lose one's self in another.

Love is to join and separate,

To walk alone and together,

To find a laughing freedom

That lonely isolation does not permit.

It is finally to be able

To be who we really are

No longer clinging in childish dependency

Nor docilely living separate lives in silence,

It is to be perfectly one's self

And perfectly joined in permanent commitment

To another – and to one's inner self.

Love only endures when it moves like waves,

Receding and returning gently or passionately,

Or moving lovingly like the tide

In the moon's own predictable harmony,

Because finally, despite a child's scars

Or an adult's deepest wounds,

They are openly free to be

Who they really are – and always secretly were,

In the very core of their being

Where true and lasting love can alone abide."

 

It was time for us to declare our intentions before our witnesses.

"Benedict, will you have this woman to be your wife, and will you promise your life to her in all love and honour, in all duty and service, in all faith and tenderness, to live with her, cherish her, according to the ordinance of God, in the holy bond of marriage?"

"I will." He squeezed my hand.

"Cara, will you have this man to be your husband, and will you promise your life to him, in all love and honour, in all duty and service, in all faith and tenderness, to live with him, and cherish him, according to the ordinance of God, in the holy bond of marriage?"

"I will." I squeezed back.

"Who gives this man and this woman to be married?"

Nonna, Tony, Marco, Wanda, Tracy and Tim all stood and said together, "We do."

"Marriage is not something that two people invent, or construct by themselves. It takes a far wider community of family and friends to make any marriage work. Each of you have been invited here today because you are a part of that community. Therefore, having heard Benedict and Cara state their intentions to each other and to God in this Service of Marriage, do you pledge to support their union and to strengthen their lives together, to speak the truth to them in love, and with them to seek a life of love for others?"

All of our guests answered, "We do."

"And now Benedict and Cara would like to say a few words to each other."

Ben went first, holding both my hands in his as he looked into my eyes. "Cara, I knew the second I met you that there was something about you I needed, but it turns out it wasn't something about you at all, it was just you." Dammit, Cumbers! "You slipped under my skin and seized my heart in no time at all. I have never loved you more than I do right this second and I'll never love you any less than I do, right this second." Oh God, keep it together Cara. "Your beauty of heart and mind inspire me to be the best person I can be. I promise to love you for eternity, to respect you, honour you, remain faithful to you, and share my life with you. I look forward to growing together, to getting to know the woman you will become and falling in love with you a little more each day."

Well shit, how am I supposed to follow that?

All right, Cara – cool, calm and collected. Just open your mouth and speak from the heart. But keep it brief; we haven't got all day.

"Ben, the night we met you told me a truth about yourself and you giggled - and I think I knew, subconsciously, that I was a goner already." I faintly registered laughter from our friends. "The second I realised I was in love with you was when you brought me a hot dog all the way from New York – it was such a sweet, thoughtful gesture; one I've come to learn is typical of the warm, generous man you are, and just two of the immeasurable reasons why I love you. I promise I will strive to give you the best of myself while accepting you just the way you are. I will let you in to my innermost fears, secrets and dreams. I promise to grow along with you, to be willing to face change to keep our relationship alive – and to always be kooky for you." There was definite laughter now, most importantly from Ben. "And finally, I promise to love you with all I have and all that I am, in the only way I know how - completely and forever."

We kept our hands joined as we repeated the traditional marriage vows.

"I, Benedict, take you Cara, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge you my faith."

"I Cara, take you Benedict, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge you my faith."

Adam passed the rings to the priest, who gave the blessing. "Bless, O Lord, the giving of these rings, that they who wear them may abide in thy peace and continue in thy favour. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

He turned to Ben. "Benedict, please repeat after me:

"In token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love, with this ring I thee wed, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." Ben repeated the words as he placed the ring on my finger; squeezing my hand once he'd done so, which helped settle my tremors.

"Cara, please repeat after me:

"In token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love, with this ring I thee wed, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." I took Ben's ring, willing myself not to drop it, and slid it on his finger as I said the words.

"Let us pray.

"Most merciful and gracious God, in whom we live and move and have our being, bestow upon these your servants the seal of your approval, and benediction; granting unto them grace to fulfill, with pure and steadfast affection, the vow and covenant between them made. Guide them together, we ask, in the way of justice and peace, that, loving and serving you, with one heart and mind, all the days of their life, they may be abundantly enriched with the tokens of your everlasting favor, in Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Everyone recited the Lord's Prayer.

Forasmuch as Benedict and Cara have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have pledged their faith each to the other, and have declared the same by joining hands and by the giving and receiving of rings; I pronounce that they are husband and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen.

"The grace of Christ attend you, and the love of God surround you, the Holy Spirit keep you, that you may live in faith, abound in hope, and grow in love, both now and forevermore.

"Go into the world and fulfill your lives. Hold fast to your ideals. Give to each other experiences of joy. Challenge each other that you may grow. May the love you hold for each other now sealed in marriage continue to mature, that your life together may be a source of strength and inspiration to others. Amen.

"Benedict, you may kiss your bride."

We turned to face each other and Ben drew up the portion of veil from over my face as Maria helped him adjust it on my head – and then my husband kissed me.


	71. Epilogue

The 88th Academy Awards Ceremony, hosted by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences at the Dolby Theatre, Hollywood, California on February 28, 2016.

"Here to present the award for cinematography are two artists who are no strangers to creativity and vision. They are both nominated for an award tonight; she for Best Original Song and he for Best Actor in a Leading Role – coincidentally, for the same movie. Also coincidentally, they are married...to each other. Please welcome Cara de Luca and Benedict Cumberbatch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This very short epilogue gives an insight to what comes next in the sequel to 'Photograph', called 'Still The One'.


End file.
